We sat there and watched,
as the anthems rang out.
Then we saw the formation,
what the *** was that about?
We stared at each other not blinking a lot
and did we like it?
No we did not!
No Bresciano.
No Jesus.
No Kewell.
Had Pim finally lost it?
Was he really a tool?
And then came the corner,
it was a false dawn,
and had we scored then,
would we be so forlorn?
But one,then another, and faces had dropped,
and appetites raging, had suddenly cropped.
No hope in the midfield,
No steel in defence.
Those horns so perpetual,
and the pundits so dense.
Half time it brought silence,
But in its place,
came Kalac then Zdrillic and Ned Zelic's sour face.
And after the break, frustration took hold.
Red red red card.
And doom now in bold.
Two more to confirm it,
and Pim must rethink.
Should he ask John Travolta?
and put Arnie in the clink?
What use now for Vidmar?
What use for him now?
And was there any use for the **** anyhow?
The Ghanaians are waiting
and so are the horns
unless there are points
a whole nation mourns
GP
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