In an old folk’s care home after lunch time
The match is on, the whole world waits with baited breath
Apart from in here.
Old ladies, nodding heads in tall chairs sleeping
The game is tense, the snores are loud and clear
Nobody weeps yet
The GOAL, the GOAL one cry is frenzied passion
From carers gathered near to watch the match
This could be it now
Eight heads shoot up from shock at rude awakening
Not caring that the whole world’s on their edge
“What’s going on here?”
Then slowly seven heads slump back to dreaming
Except for one who needs to know the score
“Where is my tea?”
It’s not time yet, the kitchen isn’t ready.
The head goes back down on to fragile chest
England go out!