Right-ho all you Canary scholars...
[Here are players
Young and old,
Some we bought
Some we sold,
Some are hidden
Some are not,
How many here
Can you spot?]
50 ex and present players to find
(I´ll post the complete list in a couple of days time)
There is a yellow and green team
`Canaries´ is the name,
Not always on an even keel
And sometimes they´re in pain
And long ago I knew some fans
Who´d seen more downs than ups,
That they would fear for what´s on show
In both the league and cups
They´d often have a bone to pick
And be quite cross at times,
When there was nowt to crow about
And few positive signs
Irrespective of their call
Baker, Pope or cabby,
Such was the need to pray each week
In either church or abbey
There were some low times hereabouts
But even on black days,
The call to arms was heard around
And folk sped to the frays
They might have yelled "Good `eavens mate!"
Or "you great blockhead!" too,
But they´d come from the Broads and Fen
Hoping we´d turn the screw
And no-one thought to jack it in
Nor go and fetch a gun,
As fleeting glimpses they did see
To bring them joy and fun
As years and summers ran their course
Soon we just found our way,
And fans both from the south and north
All came to watch us play
And then that Cup run, ´59
Was tailor-made to bring,
Us focus, and marshall the troops
To go from win to win
So many were in a real haze
In those few winter weeks,
For prior to that run our hunt
For glory had sprung leaks
And soon from shore to shore, all knew
Of a club in these parts,
Soon to be a thorn in the side
Of many an upstart
A neighbour I once had, would start
His sermon with the words,
"Praise Carrow Road and all those there
Those fine and smart young birds"
Now if he still does, I don´t know
He lived out on the heath,
And used to cook up quite a stir
When visiting in Neath
For there you see they had the Swans
When bell for chapel rang,
Who they would sing for, most divine
Which went down with a bang
Now in these times of much success
We have a Scot to steer,
Our ship, and ruddy well it sails
And has done now for years
So no more having to cling on
To a few strands of hope,
And no more sour grapes, or grounds
To worry that we´ll cope
The press are taking notice too
But L´Equipe has as yet,
Not been on the phone, but just might
If Europe´s our next step.
[Here are players
Young and old,
Some we bought
Some we sold,
Some are hidden
Some are not,
How many here
Can you spot?]
50 ex and present players to find
(I´ll post the complete list in a couple of days time)
There is a yellow and green team
`Canaries´ is the name,
Not always on an even keel
And sometimes they´re in pain
And long ago I knew some fans
Who´d seen more downs than ups,
That they would fear for what´s on show
In both the league and cups
They´d often have a bone to pick
And be quite cross at times,
When there was nowt to crow about
And few positive signs
Irrespective of their call
Baker, Pope or cabby,
Such was the need to pray each week
In either church or abbey
There were some low times hereabouts
But even on black days,
The call to arms was heard around
And folk sped to the frays
They might have yelled "Good `eavens mate!"
Or "you great blockhead!" too,
But they´d come from the Broads and Fen
Hoping we´d turn the screw
And no-one thought to jack it in
Nor go and fetch a gun,
As fleeting glimpses they did see
To bring them joy and fun
As years and summers ran their course
Soon we just found our way,
And fans both from the south and north
All came to watch us play
And then that Cup run, ´59
Was tailor-made to bring,
Us focus, and marshall the troops
To go from win to win
So many were in a real haze
In those few winter weeks,
For prior to that run our hunt
For glory had sprung leaks
And soon from shore to shore, all knew
Of a club in these parts,
Soon to be a thorn in the side
Of many an upstart
A neighbour I once had, would start
His sermon with the words,
"Praise Carrow Road and all those there
Those fine and smart young birds"
Now if he still does, I don´t know
He lived out on the heath,
And used to cook up quite a stir
When visiting in Neath
For there you see they had the Swans
When bell for chapel rang,
Who they would sing for, most divine
Which went down with a bang
Now in these times of much success
We have a Scot to steer,
Our ship, and ruddy well it sails
And has done now for years
So no more having to cling on
To a few strands of hope,
And no more sour grapes, or grounds
To worry that we´ll cope
The press are taking notice too
But L´Equipe has as yet,
Not been on the phone, but just might
If Europe´s our next step.
and one or two wrong initials. 
otherwise 
