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WE THREE SAINTS
Come on lads put on your shirts,
paint stripes upon your face,
its Saturday and we are off to that very special place,
St. Marys is the name and Football is the game,
where the boys in red and white seek the glory and the fame.
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The Arena by the ocean draws us to its core,
ninety minutes of excitement,
win, lose or draw,
floodlights in the distance kick off not far away,
questions all unanswered will we win today,
the fans all stand and have a drink at Le Tiss’ feet,
and we pace forward with some purpose down the red and white filled street.
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We are at our place of worship and we are loyal and we are true,
and we don’t like any other teams especially those in blue!
through the gate and up the steps,
we observe the hallowed turf,
Niemi, Beattie, Phillips its time to prove your worth.
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Heart is beating faster,
tension starts to build,
as our heroes emerge from the tunnel and walk onto the field,
hold on to your hats my boys the actions on its way,
90 minutes of drama on the menu here today.
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Oh’s and Ah’s, anxiety, emotions they run high,
please don’t let the others score,
you’ll see a grown man cry!
but wait a minute there he goes,
Fernandes down the right,
and Phillips he heads in the cross,
much to our delight.
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Well we hold out to the whistle,
three points are in the bag,
but Saints are very modest and I resist the urge to brag,
we dissect the match when walking home in a series of replays,
but my sons these times I spend with you are truly Golden Days.