Merry Premier League Eve!

’Twas the night before kick-off, and all through the land,
No ball was left rolling, no chant from the Monty stand.

The kits were all hung in the lockers with care,
In hopes that the season soon would be there.

The Mackems were nestled, with scarves on their beds,
While visions of Wembley danced in their heads.

Regis was planning with tactics and charts,
Dreaming of victory to warm all our hearts.

When out on the pitch there arose such a clatter,
The groundsman ran out to see what’s the matter.

Away to the Stadium of Light he did dash,
Past turnstiles and murals in Sunderland sash.

The floodlights shone bright on the lush Wearside green,
A sign that tomorrow the magic’d be seen.

When what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a ball and a whistle the new season’s here!

With fixtures all ready, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment the Black Cats would kick.

From Roker to Wearmouth, the roars shook the night,
Red and white stripes ready to fight the good fight.

So here’s to Sunderland, with passion and cheer,
To the hope that this just might be our year.

And I heard them exclaim, as they ran out of sight:
“Ha’way the Lads and to all, a good night!”