Today it starts,
A game of two halves.
Shame no one told us.

They will play,
We will watch
With one eye half shut

They will talk,
Another good game.
But fail like 1970,
To claim a prize,
We think of our own.

I was two the only time,
We raised a trophy,
That my father saw,
Being held aloft in ’66.

We claim our three lions roar,
Only they whimper out of tournaments,
With nothing, but a story of penalties,
And another cross bar denying.

So I say what will be different,
This four year cycle?
I know that the pain will be the same,
Angry words chanted, and dreams shattered

But then there is always
A spark of hope…

Or the next time.

©Nick Strong