It’ll end in a loss, a shocking defeat.
We’ll flail and fail when it goes to penalties
Never once gaining the upper hand,
Not from the first minute till the last.
No hope for us at all, no prayer answered
No favours owed or to call in.
No icon, no deity to help my team out.
As I watch in despair and I know it’s coming,
The dread, the dark cloud forming above our sofa
And as always when she’s here with her
Feet up and watching the match with wine
I sit and realise it’s all gone to pot –
She’s watching the match my brothers
And she’s cursed you sorry lot.
Written by Laura Sansom
Follow Laura on Twitter @louboop
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