St. Spursy Day
This day is call'd
the feast of Spursy
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Spursy
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say "To-morrow is Spursy Day"
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say "These wounds I had on Spursy Day"
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words—
Kevin the King, Foden and Haaland,
Rodri and Walker, Ake and
Gvardiol—
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Spursy shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And City Fans in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Spursy day.