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Blame it on the ref, for sure,
For one decision that was poor,
If it helps you come to terms with misery.
But you know down deep inside,
‘Twas not the ref that blazed shots wide,
Not the ref who wasn’t marking for the free.
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It’s a fact beyond all doubt
That all neutral hearts go out
To a nation cruelly bludgeoned at the death.
‘Twas a dreadful way to lose,
To sustain a national bruise,
The fat lady drawing in her final breath.
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But to blame the ref is crass
And not done by teams of class.
You’ve proved that you are made of sterner stuff.
Learn the lesson, read the book,
Don’t put all the blame on luck –
Yes its cruel, but you weren’t quite good enough.