I have a dream
¶ 1
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It’s funny how as you get older
Your dreams they start to fade
All those hopes of Wembley
They begin to shade.
Amateur Cup quarter final
Back in Seventy Four
Too young to understand how close we were
Almost one foot in the door.
Six years later
Just turning into a teen
Quarter finals of the Trophy
Oh what might have been.
Then four years after that
We got to the third round proper
Long trips to Chorley, Kettering, Northwich
At neutral Nuneaton becoming a cropper.
Nowadays I’ve no expectation
Long given up that thing called hope
But truth is I still dream of success
Though pain of defeat is hard to cope.
So what is this thing called football
Supposed to be my leisure
Instead causing so much pain and hurt
With very little pleasure.
Take the London Senior
We got to the semi final
Drawn away to the enemy
Our bitter arch rival.
They might have been a division lower
But with us they wiped the floor
Absolutely humiliated
Three nil the final score.
That’s the trouble with supporting Dulwich Hamlet
Only offered a shred of hope
no wonder I’m such a pessimist
It’s the only way I cope.
It would be a miracle to reach Wembley
Every year at the Trophy I close my eyes and dream
That under the arch will be Pink & Blue to the rafters
Down my face tears will stream.
There’s more chance of me winning the lottery
Than marching with ‘The Rabble’ down Wembley Way
But it’s that hope that I hate keeping me going
Until it’s our turn next year in May.
¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Dulwich Poet 23rd May 2016
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