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We were tackling tough – which seemed fair enough
Our opponents were doing likewise
Soft friendly mud – stopped us both drawing blood
Yet it stuck in our hair and young eyes.
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Oranges at half-time – tasting sweetly sublime
If proceedings were going your way
Tasted bitter as lemon – down in hell / up in heaven
If other side should just edge it in play.
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Exerted young faces – displayed every trace
Of the effort that’s needed to win
As the down hearted losers – still battered and bruised
From the not enough effort put in.
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The underground home – reliving each moment
Of the way that the game had panned out
Had your mates in hysterics – using words esoteric
So the been there know what your about.
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The feeling such Saturday mornings gave
To a red haired kid from a council estate
Are a wonderful memory that even today
Inspires me still – though me barnet is now somewhat grey!