Trinidad and Tobago,
Land of my father.
First “Finals” game,
Me in a lather.

Swedish fans wondering
How many they would score.
TnT with no chance,
To stop the blonde corps.

But we didn’t care,
Every game a celebration.
We just wanted to show,
We were proud as a Nation.

The first half was tough,
But the players got through it.
Then out for the second half,
You got right down to it.

Avery John very hard done by.
Down to ten men just after the break.
All screaming Trinies tears in their eyes,
Red supporter’s hearts starting to ache.

But you didn’t give up,
You stood tough, you stood tall.
You fought hard and long,
Going for every ball.

And Shaka The Stalwart,
Brought in at the start.
Second choice keeper,
With a Giant’s heart.

Saving each shot with grace,
Skill, and speed.
Answering each question,
In the time of need.

Then Cornell Glenn running the line,
Taking them on, willing to spar.
Wound up his leg and took a great shot,
My chair going flying as he hit the bar.

The fans dressed in yellow,
Were starting to worry.
The Caribbean Warriors,
Making Sweden scurry.

Ten men on the pitch,
Millions willing them on.
The hopeless underdogs,
Were still standing strong.

And then came the whistle,
I screamed long and loud.
The Magnificent Ten,
Had done us all proud.

The whole team were wonders,
No Man of the Match to choose.
The Soca Warriors
Turning Caribbean Rhythm into Swedish Blues.


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