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So you abuse our devotion, our loyalty, our passion,
Our commitment; our emotional obligations to that one
True constant in our lives – our town, our team, our club.
You abuse it by charging extortionate sums to sit on a
Plastic seat for ninety minutes. Fifty quid, or more – just
When there’s so much money washing around. Who’s
Kidding who ? Subsidise admission, why don’t you do it;
Consider the fans for once – surely not too much to ask…
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Same goes for kick off times; it’s be two in the morning
If it meant more subscribers. Whatever happened to that
Old, sacred Saturday ritual. Now it’s pre-booked tickets
Three weeks in advance (by credit card only, of course).
Not by your mates, just row after row of replica shirts
Advertising the sponsors. We’ve lost our soul, lost our
Independence – seduced by merchandise, by the fallacy
That ‘things have never been better’ in the Greedleague.
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And on the pitch, teams that are English by geography
Only – a mix that defies belief on occasion. But it’s OK
Say the media men. Xenophobia, if your opinion differs.
Patriotism, nostalgia, sentimentality – out of the window
In the modern age. So call me a Luddite, a dreamer of
Dreams but when I could watch a match without taking
Out a loan, that was my era. Imperfect, yes – but a good
Time, a democratic time. A time before money ruled all.