The bluebirds will fly over Wembley,
and the throstles will sing on the wing.
St. Peter’s Barnsleys guardian angel,
the Pompey chimes will now loudly ring.
Poor Fergie has been left demented,
down at the bridge it’s now full of sighs.
The Spaniard at ‘pool’ was made a fool,
Arsenals foreign legion eat humble pies.
It proves that with honest endeavor,
a willingness to fight to the end.
If you need it more though you are poor,
there is always hope around the bend.
Like an old man looks in a window,
seeing the watch he had to pawn.
He has a dream for his home town team,
as he walks to work on a cold dawn.
The cup’s come back to where it belongs,
to the working class man in the street,
Just for a year the minnows can cheer,
for loyal fans are footballs heartbeat.