The soothsayer Jones had spoke
Of days like this, no joke
To play and win not choke
The memories now remain concealed
Buried beneath, not be revealed
But remind us when we take the field
The branding from those burning embers
Loses! Everyone remembers
Drives us on, how it offend us !
But now the tide has turned
Our favours now returned
I O Us of course be burned
Self belief , just go and bust
A gut, let others taste your dust
World cup memory left to rust.
The winning journey has begun
This Grand Slam has been won
By victorious prodigal sons
Onwards to the land of the rising sun!
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