Forty Three Years *
(to the tune of Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford and others)
Well, it all went pear shaped in the year 89
Ol Yeatsey knocked Dermie on his big behind
By the time the young Cats got their eye on the ball
We were seven goals down and we won farg all
You wait Forty three years, waddya get
Another year older and filled with regret
Don't tell me about the Grannies cos I don't wanna know
I console myself with the NAB video
We went back to the well in the year 92
Kicking big scores is something that we could do
Five goals up and we started to sing
But then Matera tore us a new one from his wing
You wait Forty three years, waddya get
Another year older and filled with regret
Don't tell me about the Grannies cos I don't wanna know
I console myself with the NAB video
We hobbled our way into the Granny of 94
Our bodies and stars were limping and sore
But nobody remembers our guts and our pain
Because in the big one we got pumped again
You wait Forty three years, waddya get
Another year older and filled with regret
Don't tell me about the Grannies cos I don't wanna know
I console myself with the NAB video
We came back again in the year 95
We were hoping that the Blues would take a dive
The game was over when they bounced the ball
And I didn't think much of Roy and HG's call
You wait Forty three years, waddya get
Another year older and filled with regret
Don't tell me about the Grannies cos I don't wanna know
I console myself with the NAB video
regards,
REB
*Apologies to Merle Travis