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The Final Five


Brammie Steve

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The Final Five

By Steve Brummie

My football team, The "Batt'rin" Rams

In years of glory past,

Would go at speed, create a lead,

And Keep it to the Last.

Wow, Willie Carlin, in attack,

Would make for Pop side left

He'd keep the ball against the flag.

Defenders were bereft.

An Alan Hinton kick or two

Had floated in the box

Where Kevin. Johno, of big Mag,

Could score in just their socks.

That final five, so Cloughie said,

Would win or lose a game,

You never won a football match,

If others scored the same.

Amount of goals or even more

No matter where you play

At least one more you've got to score

Than them, home or away!

A game's not over till it's done

A lead's not worth a thistle

Unless you keep it to the end

You know, the final whistle.

Dick Wagner wrote of Nibelung

Of cycles and of rings,

It's no good getting on your bike

Before fat lady sings!

It's like it when the "battrin" rams

Create a lead you see

But in the final quarter hour

Pack up and have their tea.

This seems to happen every year

And we, as fans feel shattered,

When we watch good leads disappear

And watch the Rams get battered!

Now Nigel, youre a lovely lad

And clearly lion hearted

But learn the lesson from your dad

And finish what you've started.

 

A game is ninety minutes long

Two halves which both are equal

That's forty five times two you know

Not forty in the sequel!

That final five, daft as it seems

May sometimes stretch to twenty

What with delays, and injuries,

To lose, or to score plenty.

So play that game lads, play it well

Don't leave the fans a'cryin'

Don't lose it in the final five

Steve's watching you, so's Brian!

Anyone feel the same?

 

 

 

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The Final Five

By Steve Brummie

My football team, The "Batt'rin" Rams

In years of glory past,

Would go at speed, create a lead,

And Keep it to the Last.

Wow, Willie Carlin, in attack,

Would make for Pop side left

He'd keep the ball against the flag.

Defenders were bereft.

An Alan Hinton kick or two

Had floated in the box

Where Kevin. Johno, or Roy Mac

Could score in just their socks.

That final five, so Cloughie said,

Would win or lose a game,

You never won a football match,

If others scored the same.

Amount of goals or even more

No matter where you play

At least one more you've got to score

Than them, home or away!

A game's not over till it's done

A lead's not worth a thistle

Unless you keep it to the end

You know, the final whistle.

Dick Wagner wrote of Nibelung

Of cycles and of rings,

It's no good getting on your bike

Before fat lady sings!

It's like it when the "battrin" rams

Create a lead you see

But in the final quarter hour

Pack up and have their tea.

This seems to happen every year

And we, as fans feel shattered,

When we watch good leads disappear

And watch the Rams get battered!

Now Nigel, youre a lovely lad

And clearly lion hearted

But learn the lesson from your dad

And finish what you've started.

 

A game is ninety minutes long

Two halves which both are equal

That's forty five times two you know

Not forty in the sequel!

That final five, daft as it seems

May sometimes stretch to twenty

What with delays, and injuries,

To lose, or to score plenty.

So play that game lads, play it well

Don't leave the fans a'cryin'

Don't lose it in the final five

Steve's watching you, so's Brian!

Anyone feel the same?

 

 

 

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