THE KING’S MEN
¶ 1
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Thou art the three musketeers,
Guiding thy armies to winning.
Silver swords like lightning,
Illuminate the dull skies of Europe.
¶ 2
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O, ye, men of football!
The nights surrender to thee
And the morn are defeated,
Thy might never fades but flares up like firework.
¶ 3
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Thou art the Gods of thy clubs,
Lifting trophies and hoisting medals.
Soar high to the zenith of the elites
With victories and glories, thou shall be remembered.
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