Beautiful

Not Cricket

It knows no boundaries
The scoreboard’s straight forward
Concentrated action
Beginning to end
It’s like a religion
All over the country
Services celebrated
Every weekend
It’s never over
But it’s often wide
It’s played on a pitch
Eleven a side
Fours are quite common
Sixes are rare
Singles more often
Sometimes a pair
It’s not called ‘Not Cricket’
It has its own name
More grave than life or death
It’s a funny old game
You guessed it, it’s Football
Not 'soccer' or 'ball'
It’s man-made, in England
Supported by all


Manchester (La La La)

The only team in Manchester
Played in the FA Cup
One year, when I was just a lad
And bothered turning up

The third round draw took us away
To dodgy London Town
Playing against Watford
Not exactly the jewel in the crown

The local boys from ‘MCD’
Were CITY, through and through
They hired a dodgy mini-bus
From Dodgy Dave, a blue

It took us hours to make the trip
Through deep, mid-winter snow
Johnny ‘Nesh’, complained all the way
Did he really want to go?

The Beech Road Boys were there in force
At least a dozen strong
“You must have come in a taxi!”
They taunted, with their song

It was in the days of standing
The terraces were full
Of CITY boys, who made more noise
The ‘home’ fans sounded dull

The ‘home’ fans were confined to seats
As CITY took the ground
Three sides went up as CITY scored
One never made a sound

And when the final whistle blew
One goal had stolen the show
And those ten thousand CITY fans
Returned home in the snow