I remember sittin' on me dad's shoulders at the match.
Four years old

and seeing a sea of heads.

The roar of thousands.
The crash of feet on stands.

Just sitting on me dad's shoulders
chompin' on a meat pie

and slurpin' on a Bovril.

Shouting and learning the tribal roar
in me Red & White’s.
I learnt a lot, just sitting

on me dad's shoulders.

Twenty-three years later

and I’ve been a few times since,

but it’s not the same

sitting in plastic seats.