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With the rest of the world heading Mexico way,
Big Jack turned his back on the sun.
We flew up to Iceland to skies cold and grey
To engage in some Arctic-style fun.
‘Twas not a big tournament, only three teams
Whose World Cup ambitions became shattered dreams,
But up in the land of great weather extremes,
We ended up second to none.
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We’d never won nothing, we’d never been blessed
To qualify out of a group.
Our lack of cohesion, despite our great zest,
Had landed us oft in the soup.
But here against Iceland and then ‘gainst the Czechs,
We started to see things with rosier specs.
When we won the damned Cup it was better than sex
And we felt like the cock of the hoop.