He was born just a goal-kick from Ayresome Park,
And outside his first home there hangs a small plaque,
A tribute to a man that some often say should,
Have received the great honour of the Queen’s Knighthood.

He was from a large family that had oft’ times struggled,
And, through earlier days, they had ‘fought’ and juggled,
But his childhood was happy; examples set thorough,
As he dreamed he’d play soon for his much beloved Boro.

At the age of just twenty he made his debut,
And at once his goal tally amazingly grew,
Each season the Boro fans felt as in heaven,
Then he left after nine years having scored one-nine-seven.

Boro fans were aggrieved and for very good reason,
For Cloughie guaranteed forty goals in a season,
Then he left for the Black Cats; a move taken poorly,
Then, sadly, through injury, his career ends prematurely.

As news of the career-threatening injury’s released,
It is met, with great sadness, throughout the north-east,
Although his career as a player’s now finished,
His love of the great game just never diminished.

He took over as manager at struggling ‘Pools,
When one thinks of what followed, one instantly drools,
Via Brighton and Derby then Forest and Leeds,
His achievements were greater than some unnamed Swedes.

With Derby and Forest – teams so out of fashion,
He won great rewards, showing belief and great passion,
On the touchline he’d make his opponents feel frailer,
Due, in no small part, to his assistant, Pete Taylor.

Many Boro fans, to this day, still feel somewhat aggrieved,
That he didn’t manage Boro, as they’d always believed,
He was forthright and blunt and always the straightest,
And as a scorer of goals, in my mind, was the greatest.

After long, drawn-out illness this great football Ace,
Was taken too early to a much better place,
When news came through that the great man had died,
One thought of him instantly, with tremendous pride.

There were tears in the boardroom and on the quayside,
Felt most of all, I’d say, in his home-town in Teesside,
But although the Boro’s greatest son is now dead,
One thing still lives on and that’s Old Big ‘Ead.