“Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.”
And more than most we Blues have learned
Exactly what that means.
For when it comes to derbies,
We rarely come up trumps,
The Reds are usually cock-a-hoop,
While we’re down in the dumps.
Once more we’re singing Bluenose Blues,
Red flags are flying high.
The Reds are down the pub with Klopp,
All we can do is cry.
We had a win at Goodison
Around two thousand ten.
Last time we won across the Park?
I can’t remember when.
Yet crumbs of comfort can be found
In this hour of sore need.
The day’s not too far off, we feel,
When we’ll at last succeed.
With Ancelotti at the helm,
A wind of change is blowing.
The seas are rough, the going’s tough –
We’re tough, and we’ll get going.
And soon, before too long, we trust,
We’ll hit a winning streak.
And then to us who ne’er succeed,
Boy, won’t success taste sweet?
Denys E. W. Jones