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I had a lump in my throat as he walked out to the Centre Spot.
To my awestruck teenage eyes he seemed like some sort of demi-god.
His Christian name was Robert, but to all he said: “Just call me Bob”.
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Tell me, who’s the chap with the Number Nine stamped on his back?
He’s built like a blockhouse and he’s heavy as a Tiger Tank.
No doubt the right fella to be spearheading our attack.
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Meanwhile, I was thinkin’…
If it’s a dry pitch, they’ll outstrip him.
If it’s bone-hard, it could crippl’im!
If it’s a mud-patch, then we’re grinnin’,
Come on, Bobby. Let’s get winnin’.
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Tell me, who’s the dude that’s all set to take a penalty kick?
He’s usually pretty trusty, but, of course, he has been known to miss.
He belts it…bang on target, now he turns to blow us all a kiss!
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Meanwhile, I was still thinkin’…
If it’s a long ball, he won’t get it.
If they foul him, they’ll regret it.
If it’s a nice cross, then he’ll head it.
Come on, Bobby. Let’s net it!
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Tell me, who’s the bloke that sweats blood to honour our Blue Shirt?
He’s scarred from many battles and his shorts are caked with mud and dirt.
But with thirty goals this Season, every penny that they paid he’s worth!