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No particular Place to go

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Cruisin’ along with a three-nil lead.
We’d seen off the ‘Pool with surprising ease.
Fifty-six seconds, Maldini struck.
Paolo could scarcely believe his luck.
He picked up a pass and he bagged the first goal.
Crespo got two more, the match was a stroll!

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Coastin’ to Vict’ry in Istanbul.
We’d slaughtered the Reds, made ‘em all look fools.
Tifosi were singing triumphant songs.
Alas, then the script went so horribly wrong.
Steve Gerrard dealt us a deadly blow.
Nodded one in, and the rest you know…

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Here we are sat in an airport lounge.
Dida and Nesta, the rest of the bunch.
Silvio’s livid, he tears out his hair.
(The little that’s left on his pate so bare).
Seedorf, Serginho and Shevchenko,
Wet-eyed, a-weeping, bewailing their woes.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Can you imagine how gutted we feel?
Playthings of Fortune, who gives but to steal.
Hands on the Silver, yet we let it slip.
Firm in our grasp, then it fell from our grip.
We blew our chance, now we daren’t head home.
We’ve no particular place to go…

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 28/5/05
Denys E. W. Jones

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Notes

This one is a re-working of Chuck Berry’s No particular Place to go. Of course, in reality the defeated finalists are back safe and sound in Milan,
but I found it amusing to imagine them sitting in Istanbul airport, not daring to head home…

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/no-particular-place-to-go/