Today we would see the Eagles soar,
We’d see off the bores from Turf Moor,
We tested Burnly’s Hart with shot after shot-
Poor old Joe must look like a pepper pot.
Such an unusual sight for the fans in the stands,
To see our Keeper clapping to warm his hands,
Finally McArthur lobbed in a wobbly cross,
His far post lucky bounce begins the Burnley loss.
This was to be the first of Palaces winning brace,
Owing less to McArthur skill than Divine grace,
Yes, our Palace sharpshooters would bumble in two-
But shoot twenty-odd times, odds are you score a few.
Then late late on Townsend shot from long range
And it didn’t fly up to the Heavens- for a change,
Now, manager Hodgsons nous is hard to refute,
With two minutes to go Sorloths out of his track suit.
Sloth ain’t out there for his silky skills or deft touch-
He’s not impressed on either front there overmuch,
Not Hodgson nor I expect Lex to score a goal sublime,
Sorloth’s on to prove- once again- he’s a waste of time.