Start all the clocks, connect the telephone,
Allow the 'Cats to roar with a juicy bone,
Silence the Boomers and their stupid drum
Put away the coffin, let the morning come.
Let the visitors cheer wildly and grin
Shouting to the sky the message The Cats Win,
Put purple bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the football stick to our receivers' gloves.
Let's stun the North, the South, the East and West,
The night 'tween the working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that dread would last for ever: I was wrong.
The five stars are wanted now: bring in every one;
Put up the moon and build back the sun;
Fill up the ocean, keep pounding the rock.
For the Wildcats winning is now 100% a lock.