| I remember in September when the final stumps were drawn
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| And the shouts of crowds now silent when the boisterous cheer had gone
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| Let us O Lord above us remember simple things
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| When all are dead to love us, Oh, the captains and the Kings
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| When all are dead to love us, Oh, the captains and the Kings
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| We have many goods for export Christian ethics and old port
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| But our greatest boast is that the Anglo-Saxon is a sport
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| When the dart’s game is finished and the boys there game of rings
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| And the draft and chests were linghuised, Oh, the captains and the Kings
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| And the draft and chests were linqhuised, Oh, the captains and the Kings
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| Far away in dear old Cyprus or in Kenya’s dusty land
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| Where all bear the white mans burden in many a strange land
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| As we looked across our shoulder in West-Belfast the school-bell rings
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| And we sigh for dear old England, and the captains and the Kings
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| And we sigh for dear old England, and the captains and the Kings
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| In our dreams we see old Harrow and we hear the crow’s loud caw
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| At the flower show our big marrow take’s the pride from evil and war
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| Cups of tea and some dry sherry vintage car’s, these simple things
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| So let’s drink up and be merry for the captains and the Kings
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| So let’s drink up and be merry for the captains and the Kings
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| As I wandered in a nightmare all around great Windsor Park
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| Now what do you think I found there as I wandered in the dark?
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| 'Twas an apple half bitten and sweetest of all things
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| Five baby teeth had written of the captains and the Kings
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| Five baby teeth had written of the captains and the Kings
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| By the moon that shine’s above us in the misty mornin' night
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| Let us cease to run our self down and praise God |