I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the stands above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is St. George's cross
My countrymen St. George's poor,
This likely end will bring a loss
And leave them madder than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor manager, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of finance
Drove to this tumult on the pitch;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The goals to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the goals behind
In balance with this win, this loss.
