Football Poets

Pray Tell Me, Will We Win The Cup?

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Can one find the outcome in a tea cup
Scrawled at the bottom in leaves?
And come May will your team have an open topped bus
To proudly parade through the streets?

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Will the draw be so kind
Whom you play you don’t mind
As long as you fin one nil up

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 With minutes to go in a replay
When an o.g decides that it’s you
Who’ll go through to a next round away day
At a cash strapped young side in div two.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Will you shout “It’s our year
We’ll steam roll them no fear”
Then cry when it all go’s zits up?

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 When Geoff Hurst pulls out one of those balls
That tells you, your numbers is up
Will you run from the room, bang your head on the wall
It’s United, away, just our luck.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Will you still buy a ticket
You’ve gotta be in it to win it
Who makes all that stupid prose up?

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 When the manager won’t get his hair cut
And insists that he wear the same suit
Do you hope his B.O don’t stifle team bus
Causing severe travel sickness en route.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 On a juant to a game
To a place you can’t name
Where the motorway fare hurts yer guts.

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 In the quarters at some distant venue
As darkness descends on the crowd
Do you shout “Any bleedin where will do, up in row thirty two
There’s just minutes to go, for crying out loud”.

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 When the semi’s are drawn
And you leave home at dawn
To avoid the inevitable motorway snarl up.

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 On your day out of all days
Walking down Wemberley Way
To that pristine new place
Where the ghosts of cups past do still play

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 Will the butterflies flutter
And your voice? Turn to a mutter
As your captain and team step on up.

¶ 18 Leave a comment on verse 18 0 Clairvoyant, palm reader
Or that Russell Grant geezer
Pray tell me, will we win the cup?