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We’ve jaunts being planned
To parts of this land
Where normally punters don’t go
Jaunts need: planning, precision,
A road map, sharp vision
When you follow your team on the road.
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In “The Papers” that morn
Did they jibe and pour scorn
On your team and it’s slim chance of winning
With a large pinch of salt
Do you nut meg such thoughts
It’s first game and a new dawns beginning.
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When the train leaves The South
And the cards are dealt out
Will your seasons aspirations’ appear
Or like the sad hand you’re dealt
Will they disperse and melt
Like the head on a flat tepid beer?
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While the train picks up speed
Will you pick holes in your your team
With like-minded disciples as you
Was he worth all that dosh
And there’s him we kyboshed
Do you share your loved clubs point of view?
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As destination is reached
You’re roused from deep sleep
With the buzz of the match on the air
Do you look out the winder,
As locals give you “The Finger”,
And smile coz you don’t really care?
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Will there be a good view
Any chance of a brew
Is the station that far, do you know?
What of pubs near the ground
Can a good cafe be found
Will our team bus be parked across goal?
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When proceedings are over
As your heart beat gets slower
With a throat parched from cheering and shouting
Will you walk to the train
Laud a fantastic day
Or swear never again after two half’s of loathing self doubt?
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Did you hear half-time scores
Cor it’s cold here “Up North”
Will it take us that long to get home?
When we get to Kings Cross
Will our team be on top
In “The Sundays” on sale Euston Road?