There are those of us presumptuous
Who insist its in the genes
Or even those amongst us
Envisage our offspring in the team.
So when I sat and heard the dulcet tones
Exuding from this new born babe
I could imagine her grown up, and down the Fulham Road
On a balmy Saturday.
When her tiny lungs exploded
I could hear them loud up in The Shed
But her proud father gave that a no no
“It’s The Holt for her” he said.
Sat stood up midst a Prime Minister
A Kennedy, and a Prince
Seems a fitting place for such a Princess
Where she’ll be cheering on The Villa!
So as I reluctantly accepted
Her loyal father’s obvious Midlands choice
I enviously sat there and reflected
On West London’s loss – of a truly blinding voice!