Oh, can you hear the home fans sing,
And see the tension on their faces?
Can you hear the catcalls ring
When number nine’s not at the races?
Can you read the programme notes?
Can you see the future for us?
Can you hear the untrained throats
Raise a rather raucous chorus?
Can you smell the Wintergreen
And see the skid-marks in the clover?
Can the magic sponge be seen?
Sadly not – the season’s over.