Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one,
Ipswich fans are melancholy,
Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one.
Those in yellow/green apparel,
Four-four-four, four-four-four, four-four-one,
Bent their players o’er a barrel,
Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one…
I had thought about filling this entire column with festive ditties basking in our derby win. But it’s now a week and a half since that glorious afternoon, and as Paul Lambert told the club website before the Derby win:
“It was great for the fans and I’m sure they have basked in it for a few days but you quickly have to move on to the next one. It is important we don’t dwell on it, it’s finished, it’s over…”
As ever, he’s right, so I’ve decided to rise above childish gloating. We should be better than that; after all, we only diminish ourselves by poking fun with compositions like:
God rest ye merry Norwich men,
Let nothing you dismay.
For every week it seems we see
Another fine display.
But down the A140
Everything has gone astray:
No tidings of comfort for Roy,
Comfort for Roy,
No tidings of comfort for Roy.
We only appear smug and ungracious in victory by crowing. Like this, for example:
We sit in this division:
Ding dong! what a big surprise,
We’ve won on television!
Delia, Hosanna in excelsis!
The axe may soon be swungen,
For, i-o i-o i-o,
Gloria, our rivals in extremis!
We all know how quickly things can change in football. Hubris is invariably punished at some point, so it would be foolish to indulge in this sort of thing when we still have to visit Portman Road this season…
Have yourself a merry yellow Christmas,
Let your heart be light.
Always you-know-what
Upon the blue and white.
Have yourself a merry yellow Christmas,
Revel while you may,
It’s four months
Until we take them on away…
Besides, to keep going on about our neighbours elevates them to an importance in our lives which is both unhealthy and undeserved – though drawing parallels between their current situation and our recent history is probably acceptable:
In the bleak midwinter, Ipswich fans made moan,
They looked at the table: falling like a stone.
Loans kept coming, loans on loans, loans on loans,
Like we had with Roeder, not so long ago.
And simply paying homage to our own heroes is surely unobjectionable:
Good King Lambert lookèd out
From his high position
(Serving out a two-match ban
For an indiscretion).
Brightly shone the team that day
We could have scored seven,
Wouldn’t have mattered, I would say,
If they’d had ele-e-ven.
For lo, a shining star was seen in the East…
Long time ago in cold Carlisle, so the Sky Sports Yearbook* say,
Mrs Holt’s boy, baby Grant, was born on Palm Sunday†.
Barrow, Rochdale, Shrewsbury,
For these sides and more he played
But he will live for evermore because of derby day.
(*previously the Holy Rothmans; †12 April 1981, apparently)
Nothing wrong with that at all, I think – though the following may be deemed to come close to crossing the line again:
I saw three goals go flying in
From Captain Holt, from Captain Holt;
I saw three goals go flying in
From Captain Holt in the s*** game.
And then we scored another one,
From Hoolahan, Wes Hoolahan,
You might say that we scored for fun,
At Carrow Road in the s*** game.
Oh, I know these rhymes aren’t insightful. And they may seem rather spiteful. Better take a deep breath and blow – let it go, let it go, let it go…
Merry Christmas, all.
Evening Baldwin, One could be tempted to think that maybe you were inspired after reading some of mine on 606, if so, here´s a couple more,
to the tune, `The Holly and the Ivy`
Our Holty is so lively
And leads our line so well,
Of all the lads who are at the club
He is not the one to sell
And Lambert knows this clearly
But that is nothing new,
And as soon as he could get it done
He made Holty skipper too
The other players seem to
Appreciate his words,
For when they have their pre-match clinch
No-one gives him the bird
And being captain sometimes
Can be an awful strain,
Not everyone can do it well
For some it kills their game
But how he revels in it
In every game he plays,
Whether with the ball or on the ground
In so many different ways
So hats off to our leaders
Both on and off the pitch,
Not every team are just as blessed
With them both we could get rich.
and to the tune, `We 3 Kings Of Orient Are`
Those three Kings of Carrow Road are
Working hard to take our club far,
Always thinking, never blinking
All eyes on our radar
O,
Star is Lambert, star is Mac
And with Bowkett we don´t lack
Upward leading, never needing
Any excuse to attack
They appeared about the same time
And they soon were of the same mind,
Up and onwards, were the strong words
We heard along our climb
O,
Star is Lambert, star is Mac
And with Bowkett we don´t lack
Upward leading, never needing
Any excuse to attack
Though their plan to bring us all cheer
Wasn´t scheduled to be this year,
How we´re playing, some are saying
Promotion could be near
O,
Star is Lambert, star is Mac
And with Bowkett we don´t lack
Upward leading, never needing
Any excuse to attack
If those Kings of Carrow Road stay
And help guide us well on our way,
I´ve a feeling, we´ll be sealing
A Premier spot one day
O,
Star is Lambert, star is Mac
And with Bowkett we don´t lack
Upward leading, never needing
Any excuse to attack. OTBC
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Very good. I don’t visit the 606 site though!
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Cheers Baldwin, you too – Merry Christmas!
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