F.A. Cup day, Clipbush Park
Rushden came to town
With their Diamonds but they'd have
No jewel in their crown!
Tall and solid, outskilled though
By Ghosts in the mid,
Who - to a man - battled hard
Passion never hid.
Wattsy stretched defenders so
Much they nearly snapped,
Big Cam, beast-like, bossed the pitch
And the door Town rapped...
20 minutes, open it
Did through Whiteley's boot:
Classy finish - bottom right
Net rasped - what a beaut!
1-0 at the break, the ground
Buzzed as hot food flew
Through the stands as fans prepared
For half number 2!
Rushden were quick out the traps
But Ghosts fought on brave,
Pearson, when called made a string
Of calm first class saves.
Mitch played Wattsy down the right,
A ball low across
Rushden's goal mouth cleaned it out
Full like dental floss:
Defence was extracted, so
Close, Ben Terry's shot
Palmed away and as the clock
Ticked on - squeaky bott!
Every Ghost dug deep, in fact
Monty Don would be
Proud of how deep the lads dug
For their victory!
Ref's lips hovered, then the sound:
Frantic whizzed the pea;
Town had done it! What a win!
One big haunting spree!
Ghosts have now been drawn away:
Hornchurch are the team;
Two leagues higher, but the club
Have a right to dream!