At least we’re at Home on Boxing Day
¶ 1
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Escape to victory
Not expected – we’re Norwich City after all
Playing at home on Boxing Day
Makes a change from decking the hall
Escaping the turkey
And the in laws
To gunfire sprays of Eau de Sprout
And replica hats of Santa Claus
New socks for the first time this season
Annual cigars, smouldering funeral pyre
Ocean waves of Old Spice
Chirstmas jumpers with patterns so dire
Pockets stuffed with Quality Street wrappers
With the receipt for the kettle he bought the missus
And the card for his girlfriend
That he covered with kisses
But didn’t send
Chicken
No wonder he’s got heartburn
Too much festive poultry
Or paltry, depending on your team
Maybe it’s just heartache
Watching Norwich play their guts out for nothing
We lost again, walked home in the rain
Christmas magic dissolving like sherbet
But we’re here to fight another day
And I don’t ask for more than that
We’re lucky people I say
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