Sir Geoff Hurst
¶ 1
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In the vanishing mists of time
One man stood tall
But now remains in not so
Splendid isolation
Because we’re here for you
Sir Geoff Hurst
The man who set
Millions of pulses racing
With hat-trick heroism and
His brothers in arms
On that fateful day on
The last days of July 1966
The man who never even
Remotely thought it was
All over because he
Knew it would never be so
Three goals from the fields
Of glorious Nirvana
But now he tours the country
With soulful but forlorn
Cries from the heart
There’s nobody left, Sir Geoff
Empty rooms, silenced voices
Your faithful colleagues now
Residing in football’s most
Heavenly furnishings
It all now seems ages ago
When Sir Geoff, in acres of space,
Nodded home Mooro’s beautifully
Weighted free kick for 1-1
And then chaos and bedlam
The shot that hit the bar and line
Never a goal or was it?
It had to be undoubtedly
England bellowed it out
With the loudest lungs
Of course it was
Then Sir Robert Moore
With remarkable coolness personified
Chipped over an
AWOL West German defence
Sir Geoff in telepathic pose
Knew half an hour before
Everybody else
On his own, racing away,
Streaking clear
Head down
Then with a pulverising swing
Of his foot
Smashed the fourth goal
With a deadly signature
Game over
The lad from the
Hammers academy
Sealed the deal
But now 58 years later
Sir Geoff yearns for
The company of those
Who made our day complete
And only finds teardrops
Of dear old colleagues
The friends who once shared
His precious thoughts and
Memories that seemed to last
For ever but now
Gone, deserting him
So heartbreakingly
And poignantly
It was never intentional
But of course they’re there in spirit
Oh, nobody left in the building
But Sir Geoff will never be alone
You’re a gentleman and scholar
The World Cup was once ours
If only briefly
Never, ever forgotten
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