Spare a thought for Port Vale
¶ 1
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Spare a thought for Port Vale
On this cold winter’s day.
The FA Cup trail
Has gone cold in the mud.
When the giant is killed,
The romantics hold sway,
But the fact that they’re thrilled
Doesn’t do him much good.
¶ 2
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He knows that for years
His fierce rivals will gloat.
It’s the worst of his fears
To be rolled over thus.
The mocking and jeers
Strike a heart-numbing note
And the hot, salty tears
Mourn the departed bus.
¶ 3
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So spare a thought for Port Vale
In their moment of dread.
Fate decreed that they’d fail
‘Gainst a much poorer team.
Two penalties missed
Turned their faces bright red.
Oh can pride still exist
When you let slip your dream?
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