by Caer Newydd » Mon Feb 27, 2023 9:14 am
We won the Cup in fifty-five,
What a time to be alive,
Although aged just half a year,
My recollection is crystal clear,
A bowl of ground rice before the game,
At that time most meals were the same,
On the radio I listened in,
Confident that the Toon would win,
At the final whistle I was so happy,
Overcome with emotion I wet my nappy,
A quick change and still feeling great,
Downed a bottle of house white to celebrate,
Years later found it somewhat ironic,
The League Cup bore the name of that tonic,
So, sixty eight years further on,
Five more finals have been and gone,
Each its own sad disappointment,
Bereft of any crowning anointment,
Enough to make a grown-up cry,
But at least my undies have remained dry.
We won the Cup in fifty-five,
What a time to be alive,
Although aged just half a year,
My recollection is crystal clear,
A bowl of ground rice before the game,
At that time most meals were the same,
On the radio I listened in,
Confident that the Toon would win,
At the final whistle I was so happy,
Overcome with emotion I wet my nappy,
A quick change and still feeling great,
Downed a bottle of house white to celebrate,
Years later found it somewhat ironic,
The League Cup bore the name of that tonic,
So, sixty eight years further on,
Five more finals have been and gone,
Each its own sad disappointment,
Bereft of any crowning anointment,
Enough to make a grown-up cry,
But at least my undies have remained dry.