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A hoarse smoky slow refrain,
Reading through my programme, caught my ear
Waiting on a bit of poignant instrumental ska
Let’s our emotions know whereabouts we are?
Cue…a welling up, a hand shielding a tear.
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Fella stood near me
Harps on about how great it used to be
Before the Prima Donna’s graced our pitch
I bite my lip, smile,
Ain’t felt this chilled in such a while
There’s no way I’ll ruin my day, avin a bitch.
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Two Richards, rabbit on a dog n bone
Yelling at their folks stuck back at home,
“Mum, we’re in South West London, and it’s tipping down a rain
Yeah, we got that young fella his kit
Near bleating skint the pair of us innit?
Yeah, when he gets bigger, 100% we’ll take him to a game”.
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Puzzled by the tune what caught my ear
I’d Google it, were my daughter here
But she’s off on a jolly out in Spain
“Oi man, that song that’s on the go,
Any idea who’s singing it, d’yer know?”,
Moaning fella shrugs his shoulders, “No I ain’t”.
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Fans file in from surrounding streets
Wet fraught late-arrivals find their seats
An air of expectancy wafts over Stamford Bridge
As the two teams take to the glistening pitch
To, Liquidator, I’m trying to fathom out exactly what was it…
That Richard, and Billie Joe McAllister threw off…The Tallahatchie Bridge?