In The Surge Toward Jerusalem.
¶ 1
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Come the tournament, come the team
We pray that they fulfil our dreams
Of rising up above the dregs
To fill our hearts and share success.
¶ 2
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Those proud back home alive with hope
Will urge and watch the passes, goals
As sat indoors to catch the game
They’ll cheer and join in the quest for fame.
¶ 3
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So lift the country make us proud
Like the days gone by being bandied round
When men were men who stood proud and fought
At Waterloo, Wembley, Agincourt.
¶ 4
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This quest we’re on will make us strong
As the road we take goes ever on
Toward euphoria an the spoils within it
On a field of play in ninety minutes.
¶ 5
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In streets and roads, and local pubs
Betting shops and workmen’s clubs
In the heart and soul of every fan
There’s hope, belief, and expectation.
¶ 6
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So when our foe take to the field
In the search for our Achilles heel
Do not be afraid, or in awe my friends
They are but mortals in life’s game
The crux is here, it’s simply us or them
In the surge toward… Jerusalem.
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