When a team wins a trophy they climb aboard
The bus which drives them around the city.
Streets are rich with an abundant hoard
So glad they’re not swamped with pity.
The air is filled with colour and noise
Everyone staring at those in esteem.
Revelling in the ecstasies and joys
Of a triumphant football team.
Together they celebrate in the glory
Etching their names in the heart of the club.
People can tell grandkids another story
Of how they cheered and laughed in the hub.
Elsewhere another bus makes a trip
No players, no cup, just the usual load.
Could be different if their team hadn’t slipped
The trophy cabinet as empty as the road.