When they rattle that bag on the telly
So the numbers get truly mixed up
Watch the stoutest of legs turn to jelly
Awaiting the “Draw For The Cup”.
Discreet radios hidden in schoolyards
Tinnily whispering the state of our luck
Every match printed later on paper placards
In bold type roared out “Draw For The Cup”.
Mid day editions were full of it
White Horse Final, Stanley Matthews type stuff
Our dreams gaining clarity free from the mist
Nearing Wembley, via the “Draw For The Cup”.
Are we: going up North, or the Midlands
Is our paper round money enough
For a cheap day return and a ticket to stand
Now we know of the “Draw For The Cup”.
Our fate in the hands of retired pros
History made with every spherical plucked
Reading each number slowly so everyone knows
Who we’ll meet in the “Draw For The Cup”?
“Abide With Me”, a day out at Wembley
Beautiful thoughts that our minds conjure up
“Ten Men Went To Mow”, a final (sic) rendition of “Celery”
Belted out loud, all inspired by the “Draw For The Cup!”