There’s four stars on their Shirt now.
There’s four stars on their chest.
They’ve brought the Trophy back to Rome,
They’ve proved they are the best.
They saw off Ghana and the Czechs,
They drew against The States.
And having come through that First Stage,
They pressed ahead in haste.
The Socceroos put up a fight,
But could not block their path.
Francesco Totti’s aim was true,
And onward they advanced.
Ukraine had three stuck past ‘em.
They dealt Deutschland two blows.
Then on a sultry Berlin night,
They faced their final Foe.
They scored five Spot-Kicks out of five,
As cool as any German.
While one poor Frenchman fluffed his try,
And left a Nation squirming.
Some say Zidane was set up.
Some claim the match was rigged.
But they’re the newly-crowned World Champs,
So they don’t give two figs.
Look out, Brazil, they’re closing in,
They’re breathing down your neck.
‘Cos you’ve got five stars on your Shirt,
But they’ve got just one less!
Denys E. W. Jones