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To The End

Number Ten

Wednesday, March 10th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Eight nine minutes and there is still time
A hero to emerge, a legend to be born
I can picture it now, a bicycle kick so sublime
To patch us up where we have been torn
It becomes a part of fokelore in the manner in which it came
Against all the odds they prove the doubters wrong
Revitalise the love of the Beautiful Game
Amongst those who stand in the spirited throng
It comes from a corner or an exquisite through ball
I can all sense it coming it is running in my veins
That at the very last moment a player would take the call
Rising to the honour of being the one to stop our pains
I have kept the faith in the hour and a half that has been
Sometimes the hour cometh but the man is nowhere to be seen.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/to-the-end/