That clanging of the lunchtime bell
Signalled lessons, had come to an end
A grey tennis ball brought a whole different world
To us hungry hoards of age ten.
A gate became a makeshift goal
Two trees formed the other two posts
In a playground next door to Westminster Cathederal
Home of father, son and the holy ghost.
Stern nuns were going crazy
At our footwear getting ruined
This was back in those hazy days
Before kids wore trainers to school.
Bobby Charlton passed the tennis ball
To Denis Law inside
Who made Maurice Norman look like an utter fool
As he lost him in two quick strides.
As Bill Brown came out crouching
Law knocked the ball through his legs
That Brown he wern’t no slouch him
But Law easily done him, nutmegged.
Running in to the eighteen yard box
Completely unmarked on his own
Law was just gonna put the ball in to the…
When the lunchtime bell (or full time whistle) was blown.
Said clang restored our senses
We were London schoolkids again
No more Law strolling through defences
Of North London’s White Hart Lane.
Looking about our playground
Charlton had gone back to his class
Norman and Brown had ceased being clowns
Both trees and the gate stood charmless.
Trooping back in for afternoon lessons
Our minds drifted far from that game
Tomorrow? I’ll be Raymond Kopa the Frenchmen
You can be Alfredo Di Stefano, him that plays for Spain.
When that grey tennis ball
Came in play at our school
Absolutely anything was possible
It’s a wonderous game…. this football!