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Three o’clock kick off every other Saturday;
And an all-British XI to cheer. Standing on the
Terraces watching the match – brass band
Music on the public address and half time
Scores on numbered boards. Plain shirts, no
Sponsors’ names, no silly squad numbers;
The game always over by a quarter to five.
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Queueing at the schoolboy’s turnstile, a one
Shilling programme, League Review inside.
No fanfare or fireworks to greet the teams,
Being there was enough to get the crowd
Buzzing with anticipation; and you could chant
What you wanted to – not what they’d let you.
Those were the days, my friend – we thought
They’d never end, we’d sing and dance for ever…