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Watching them, Irons, alight from a barge
and gracefully skip over a myriad of puddles
On their way to the stadium…after, avin it large
Singing their traditional, “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles”.
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It suddenly dawned on me, stood in awe on the tow-path
As the blatantly obvious things in life sometimes can?
Is an Iron travelling on a barge, avin it large,
Making haste to the stadium…the quintessential floating fan?
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If so? What a right blinding way, to make tracks to the match?
Their singing and impending arrival majestically regal
Well at least until twenty past seven on Saturday evening perhaps?
When their bubble got burst by the claw of an Eagle.