Evocative Football in the Fog
¶ 1
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Strange how the ghostly gloom
Turns football into Dickens
A muffled terrace wrapped up
In blankets and bovril
The breath of expectation rises
And clings like cobwebs
The face of Shankly gazes through the mist
2-0 to the Lilywhites
Finney smiles
And as the away fans begin the trek to the coach
The north end voices sing out as one:
“We can’t see you leaving!”
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