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The football coastline’s littered with great ships that ran aground,
Foundering on that fearsome fiscal reef.
Their hazy outlines shimmer where long memories can be found,
Sailing quite unknowingly to grief.
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Tradition counts for nothing and pure sentiment is bunk,
Romantic hopes and yearnings count for naught.
There’s some that say the “Rovers” should be scuttled now and sunk
Before it fails to make it into port.
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Promises won’t seal the cracks in sudden stormy weather,
Though many claim the trade winds are too rough.
The captain and the crew will need to get their act together,
Tradition really isn’t good enough.