1966 and all that
¶ 1
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With a Guinness caked smile
you could smell from a mile,
like a circus clown
holding a tin-foil covered
cardboard replica of the FA Cup,
you woke me up,
on a Sunday morning at dawn .
¶ 2
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Just back, off the coach
from far away London Town.
No toilets, then
just brimming buckets
and empty bottles of Brown
if your aim was good .
¶ 3
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You picked me up
out of the bed, our Kev sound asleep,
and cradled me in shirtsleeves
still damp from dancing
in the Trafalger Square fountain,
singing softly to me
“We won the Cup , we won the Cup
E. I. Addio , we won the Cup . . . ”
¶ 4
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Then louder, a word
I did not know,
“Trebilcock . . . Trebilcock,
Twice !”
you did crow.
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