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Going to the Match
Going to the Match

We'd go to the match on a Saturday,
Get the Pink Echo on the way home.
Check the pools with a cup of tea
And jump in a bath full of foam.

Saturday night was for going out.
There was no footy on the telly then.
Now we stay in a watch those wimps.
I remember when men were men.

Tommy Smith, Chopper Harris and Norman Hunter,
They'd give them something to squeal about.
If you started whining and whinging
You'd get another mighty kick and a clout.

There's footy on telly 24/7.
A three o'clock kick-off is nearly a thing of the past.
When you check the TV listings in the paper,
Worldwide, football is being broadcast.

Too many fans stay in their armchairs these days.
It's too easy to stay at home and keep warm.
Supporting your team in all weathers,
When I was young that was the norm.

Footy rattles, scarfs and good humour.
They were our weapons of war.
We'd chant till our voices were hoarse
And we'd get louder if the other team scored.

Gone are the days when we strolled to the game.
Now we get there early to find a parking space.
You queue at the chippy for your dinner
And you pay a kid to mind your car, just in case.

Paper tickets to get into the game have gone.
You have electronic permits now on your phone.
They call them cashless stadiums
And if your phone doesn't work you're thrown.

But we love our footy as much as ever,
Whether you're a blue or you're a red.
You'll be as passionate as the next man or woman,
Coz, we adore our footy, it's the way we were bred.

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