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The walls of the prison reached up to the sky,
The sentries looked down from their posts.
The moon disappeared as dark clouds floated by
Like large and preponderous ghosts.
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The watch on his wrist seemed unbearably loud,
And he blanched at the deafening noise,
But he strode to the wall with a purpose unbowed,
As he quickly recovered his poise.
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He knew that he’d only get one single chance,
There wouldn’t be time for a second.
He grasped the rough coils and adjusted his stance,
As his moment of destiny beckoned.
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Up, up flew the rope like a flickering snake,
Up, up through the chill autumn night.
The whole enterprise in that throw was at stake,
And he prayed it would turn out all right.
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But his aim, like his heart was unerring and true,
And success the reward for his hope.
Though he waited in doubt for a second or two,
Till he felt a sharp tug on the rope.
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Way up in the half-light, a figure appeared,
Silhouetted against the night sky.
And then in an instant the dark storm clouds cleared,
As the moon lit the scene from on high.
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As they sat in the van, speeding through the dark town,
Wayne Rooney sat cracking his joints.
“What’s that in the bag, boss?” he asked with a frown,
And Fabio said, “It’s three points.”
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Don’t you love the excitement of last minute goals
When fans ring the Devil to barter their souls?
When the chance is created
And all breath is bated,
And your rivals are crumpled and so devastated?
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Don’t you love the excitement of last minute winners
When prayers of atonement rise up from the sinners?
When hearts start to flutter
And sceptics all mutter
And somebody’s hopes are despatched to the gutter?
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Don’t you love the excitement of last minute screamers,
Confounding the cynics and lifting the dreamers?
USA were delighted.
Slovenian prayers were most cruelly blighted.
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Oh, let me be your Mertesacher, baby,
I’ll fight off each attacker for your hand.
They will slip on a banana
If they come at me like Ghana.
Oh let me be your Mertesacher,
I would even hold off Kaka,
Let me be your Mertesacher, babe.
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Oh let me be your Bastian Schweinsteiger,
I would climb the Eiger for your love.
There are some who say I am
Just a little Phillip Lahm,
But I’m Bastian Schweinsteiger,
I’m as deadly as a tiger,
So let me be your Bastian Schweinsteiger.