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Up stands the claret and blue choir. Up stands
The centurions, as sentries forthwith,
Taunting the enemy upon the shore
Who, unlike Spartacus, cry with fear “Halt
Your steps for your backs are against the villa”
But replied the throng, the old and the young,
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“You fashion skill and your army is young,
Perhaps too young, for experience stands
Against youth. Imagine Ricky Villa
Skating through the box, or a Peter Withe
Soaring above them all before the Holte
End, or wobbling knees before Shaw.
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Players such as these turn men to rickshaws,
Burning up their thighs when some men are born young,
Turn quickly into hobblin’ pops, then halt.
McParland and McGann, none could withstand,
Regardless of your thighs being iron with
Steel bolts, if you’re facing the Mighty Villa!
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It would take Saint Theresa d’Avila
To pray the Villan tide away from shore,
Or a papal edict from Rome with
Psychological messages by Jung
And even then, it would not prevent the stands
Erupting; hark: Trinity and the Holte!!
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Look at the tables – by the 50s halt,
United, Liverpool and Spurs tied Villa
To League wins. The ones who understand
This know the ebb and flow of sea and shore,
And time’s resigned to crack the eggs of young.
To restore the unforgiving minutes with
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Untold seconds and hours. Who can know, with
The youth springing forth, who now can halt
The vim and vigour or the mighty Young,
Milner and Aggy, the Mighty Villa!
Doubt the claret and blue? I will assure
You that the Villan tide, none can withstand.