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Every match that we had played,
We’d been a little bit dismayed.
Passes often came unstuck,
And tactically, we had been muck.
We hadn’t sprayed the ball around,
Or tried to keep it on the ground,
But lost possession with great ease,
As though the ball had a disease.
High balls lobbed aloft in hope –
How could our central strikers cope?
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But ‘gainst St. Pats, it all came right,
We knocked the ball around all night.
One touch football at its best,
Wes and Jim supremely blessed.
No longer are our prospects bleak –
Can we play you every week?