A World Cup Lament

For the Players of Vuvuzelas

You showed favor to Inger-land;
you restored the well-being of Roy.
You gave us a speedy front three;
you restored Rooney's hair. (Selah)
You gave us a modern formation;
we no longer went Route 1.
Our keeper's hair shone like the precious oil of Hermon
Running down his head and shoulders.

And yet, let's face it, nothing's changed!
We break like waves on our enemies
And our back 4 is like unto the sieve
What did Stevie G think he was doing?
What happened to Raheem?
Will we continue to fail throughout future competitions?
Will Glen Johnson always wander astray like unto the lost sheep?
Must we suffer 50 years of hurt?

With heavy heart will we put the St George's flags back in the cupboard.
Bereft of flags will we drive our cars.
How long until we win a trophy?
How long until our heads are high?
We will wait through the nights of summer have passed
We will look for the time we can go to the pub for Leicester v Baggies
And once again will we delude ourselves
That the Prem is the best league in the world.