It’s our Christmas Day, the presents unopened,
Hope yet to be dashed, excitement unspoken.
Beers chilling down as the temperature rises
Grounds filling up with all shapes and sizes.
Sofas are groaning, but not yet supporters
The grass is much greener, always in August.
All can still happen, all still possible
‘Til the very first moment, the very first ball.
And then we submit to the laws of the game
A first goal conceded, our seasons in flames!
A last minute pen, our season is saved!
But so is the ball, our striker just caved.
It’s our Boxing Day, the presents are opened
Stuffed full of footy, passions awoken.
Adjusting predictions, reality bites,
Carlisle away on a wet Tuesday night?
The highs and the lows of a season to come
All hoping that we get our time in the sun.
And that’s why we watch from the ground or our chair
Massed congregations chanting Football’s Prayer.