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Over breakfast wiv me kids
I kind of finally got the gist
That last night out in Munich weren’t a dream
We’d won The Champions League
With the kind of victory
Which repays the years of loyalty to your team.
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Weren’t a purist’s show? Too true
So we ain’t offering excuses
Our name’s etched on the pot, and that’s enough
Even going one behind
Fast running out of time
Till Drogba silenced Munich with his nut.
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Our joy turned quickly sour
When our hero of the hour
Stuck his foot where once had been a ball
The ref had little option
But to point toward the comma,
As despair returned to test our teams resolve.
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Then our keeper guessed it right
T’was maybe gonna be our night
As a beach ball landed gently on the grass
The lads were all out on their feet
Could we nick a victory?
Thus avoiding dreaded penalties of the past?
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It was sadly not to be
And when we missed our first, I screamed
Remembering a rainy Moscow night
When spoils were cruelly snatched away
In a sec, which haunts me to this day
As the lottery was won by Man United.
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Then fate gave us a hand
As a German miss unplanned
Put us back on levels terms again
And when Bayern struck the post
Our chance to exorcise the ghost
Via Moscow, came for winning us the game.
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Our man retained his cool,
He clearly ain’t no fool
While the German keeper antics failed to bate
In one corner went the ball
To the other side their keeper sprawled
As our man danced off ecstatic with his mates.
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Like I say it’s just sunk in
It’s a beautiful Sunday morning
We’ll be shortly off to welcome home the team
To celery strewn West London streets,
Where their refusing to be beat
Has impressed on us what unity can achieve!