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Our bolt long shot before the end
The lads had failed us yet again
We stood there looking stupid, painted bright
Our flags and scarves dispatched to bin
The other half says: “Turn it in
Next doors kids could have outplayed YOU tonight”.
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Yer living room becomes a shroud
To shattered dreams and voices loud
Which fade away like waves drift out to sea
Those nights yer thought yer luck was in
When what’s ‘is name had scored and grinned
Inspiring you, as you brewed the half time tea.
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Now sponsored wall-charts tell the tale
A row of noughts, show where we failed
And let The World know how bad we’ve become
One single game outside the group
Had seen us thrashed, so we made excuse
Then shot off home like whining kids to seek out mum.
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In supermarkets, corner shops
They’re flogging shirts at half the cost
Our heads drop down as we walk the aisles ashamed
Those bags of crisps and cans of beer
Enough to last us through the year
We sunk in anger when we lost that game.
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Garish mugs and windowpanes
Engraved with shots of what’s ‘is name
Are looking pretty stupid post the match
Why? He never even got a game
If I was him best not complain
Let the other losers stand and take the flak.
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In our esteem we thought our team
Would “Do the business” on the green
Restoring pride where pride had once been held
Our dreams were sadly not to be
They scuttled off as fallen leaves
When a harsh winds send its tremor o’er the veldt
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As our finals ended some time back
It’s back to work and words like that
As we try to hide our tears and act real tough
We’ll clean the winders, paint the house
Swallow our pride and shut our mouths
Knowing full well we were never good enough.
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“The Rising Sun” thrives down our road
Outside the pub ‘I told you sos’
Stand on ceremony looking smug
Who gives a jot for the likes of them?
Let’s raise our glasses up to Spain
For playing The Beautiful Game….the way us punters love!