Play The Game

Twenty-Two stalwarts in stripes and shorts

Kicking a ball along,

Set in a square of leather-lunged sports

Twenty-two thousand strong,

Some of them shabby, some of them spruce,

Savagely clamorous all,

Hurling endearments, advice or abuse,

At the muscular boys on the ball.

Stark and stiff 'neath a stranger's sky

A few hundred miles away,

War-worn, khaki-clad figures lie,

Their faces rigid and grey

Stagger and drop where the bullets swarm,

Where the shrapnel is bursting loud,

Die, to keep England safe and warm

For a vigorous football crowd !

Football's a sport, and a rare sport too,

Don't make it a source of shame.

To-day there are worthier things to do.

Englishmen, play the game!

A truce to the League, a truce to the Cup,

Get to work with a gun,

When our country's at war we must all back up

It's the only thing to be done!