My dad used to say to me
he’d like to see Town win 4-3.
This was his one ambition,
our reaction? Deep derision.
Then one match against the Blues –
that’s Birmingham at St Andrews,
my father’s dreams all came true
as dreams are sometimes apt to do.
One hour gone, we’re 4-1 down.
“come on Swindon, come on Town!”
Then a complete transformation
against a team fighting relegation.
From his position as libero
Town boss Hoddle chose to go
into a more advanced position
to cause damage to the opposition.
Straight off Blues began to wobble
when they saw the ageing Hoddle.
4-1 soon became 4-2,
the fans were getting nervous too.
The Town front pair were making hay
as the Blues defenders backed away.
A steady stream of sublime passes
left Blues players on their arses.
4-2 soon became 4-3,
nails were bitten anxiously.
Fifteen minutes still to go,
we could get a point you know.
Soon enough we equalised.
This is super stuff you guys!
As Blues fans rounded on their team
it was like the weirdest dream.
Then we got another goal
with the home defence AWOL.
We were leaping up and down,
5-4 now to Swindon Town.
The last goal I have a notion
happened almost in slow motion.
Our Aussie striker lightning quick
and looking for his first hat-trick
sprinted past the Blues defence
and had the nous, the common sense
to take it round the keeper
and the flailing, ageing sweeper
and plant it in the vacant net.
Had to be the best goal yet.
In thirty minutes we’d scored five.
It made you glad to be alive.
We’d never laugh again at dad,
though what made this rather sad
was that he was holidaying with my mum
and thus missed all the brilliant fun.