It came on Bonfire Night, it came,
The celebrations loud and proud,
It came when colours, sounds and lights,
Were elsewhere, for another crowd.
It came as if being hewn from rock,
Each quarried block next to the last,
A dry stone wall constructed so
that Fulham – Fulham! – could not pass.
It came, we’re in November now,
We’ve changed the clocks, we’ve yellow ball,
It’s FA Cup First Round Day next,
It came, though, it came, though, that is all.
And brought with it a shaft of light,
So we can lift our glance a while,
And see the table up above,
And teams below,
and maybe smile.
It came through scrapping hard and long,
In edging a frustrating game,
The win was all that mattered, though,
And when it mattered most, it came.