United In Defeat
¶ 1
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No more the loud proud chants of glory.
No more the voices of the swaying crowd.
An empty stadium, haunted by the ghosts
Of what could, should, might have been.
Those cruel near-misses, twists of unkind fortune,
Amount at last to this: We lost. Come, all you scornful
Fans of other clubs, whose teams are merely mortal
And fill your gleeful cups with our despair.
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