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In the Beginning was The Ball,
The golden orb that doth enthrall,
Shining forth in brilliant light
Amid the blackness of the night,
A beacon to both young and old
To draw them all into the fold.
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And as these football matches grew,
No longer were they free to view,
But chairmen came, all big and brash,
Attracted by the lure of cash
Who built great stadia to hold
Spectators by the thousandfold.
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Behind the chairmen came directors
From bank and advertising sectors,
And then the girl who served the tea,
The Bovril and confectionery.
Groundsmen, turnstile operators
Scouts and bankers, small potatoes,
Kit man, physio, youth team coach,
All bonded by the one approach.
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And then The Ball saw that the whole
Idea was beyond control
And, in a most dejected frame
Of mind, imploded at a game.
And with a deep and puzzled frown,
The whole shebang came tumbling down.