Love, is a many defendered thing
¶ 1
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I walked along the streets, of London town
Up and down, up and down
I met a little fan in London town
And I said, can you tell me please
Where’s that love I never found?
Unravel me this riddle
What is love, what can it be?
And in her Gooner eyes, were butterflies
As she replied to me
Love, is a many defendered thing
It’s the April prose, that only grows
In the early spring.
Love is football’s way of giving
A reason to be living –
A golden crown
That makes a team king
Once, when a clean sheet was all that was required
A massed defence, so inspired
Prevailed, as two strikers missed, and lovers kissed
And the ground trembles still
Then your fingers touched my strung-out heart
And taught it how to sing!
Yes, true love, is a many defendered thing
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