Rushing home through city traffic
Via a crowded train or bus
Arriving indoors half estatic
We’ll be calm when team lines up.
During poignant national anthems
We’ll predict it’s our turn now
As our iconic unshaved captain
Stirs the nation with his scowl.
The game will start and pumping hearts
Will race as TV screens
Inform us wisely that our mega stars
Seem jaded by past season.
As both feet flinch trying to knock one in
We’ll scorn errs in front of goal
Then we’ll watch in utter disbelief
As a scorcher fires the soul.
A goal up, we’re invincible
Jules Rimet is in our sights
“I told you they’d be simple
I said we’d beat ‘em’ right?”
With the rosy brewing nicely
We’ll watch the boys trudge off
While hordes of armchair fans in Blighty
Dare to say “We’re well on top” .
We’ll agree with TV pundits
That Capello’s side are ace
As we scan the pull-outs from The Sun
To see where other sides blokes play?
As Lineker tries to make us laugh
We’ll over indulge in Walkers crisps
As team comes our for the second half
We’ll be looking for who’s miffed.
As our passion rises once again
When the whistle starts the half
We’ll see Bobby Moore, Jules Rimet
And Nobby Stiles (minus teeth) dance a quite fantastic dance!