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There’s an English fella lauding it in his mansion
A fleet of jam jars in the drive
Who will never know or feel the adulation
Which inspired this great nation, to believe that we just might…
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Beat our old foe out on the playing field
In a match of strength v silky class
Then out fight and out muscle causing them to yield
To end the game dejected, lying spent upon the grass.
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Yet even when our penalty shout went up
I put me head deep in my hands
Screaming;” It’s the bleetin Germans we’re bound to fluff it
Bleetin hell, we’re bleetin damned”.
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Then The Ice Queen focused with her all
Pushing their delaying theatrics from her mind
Ran forward and lightly caressed the ball
In to the silken goal net, a fete to be deeply etched in time.
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The whistle blew and a nation went radio rental
Followed by emotional tears of joy and pain
How fitting Lucy Bronze (sic) get’s a third place medal
But it’s the English Ladies team what won the game
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So farewell to the wonderful nights as under-dogs
When we would all stay up late and dream
The girls would really go for it (so we could tell the boss)
“I was up late watching England’s Ladies team”
“That’s okay, especially now we’re ranked World number three!”.
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To the English fella lauding it in his mansion?
Have a taste of what winning to this country means
Then try and fathom out if you can my son
The meaning of playing football for… the benefit of the team.