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Bolton Wanderers v Stoke City

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Image for Bolton Wanderers v Stoke City

Now. Or Never.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

Or close the division up with our relegated bodies

Next season there`ll be no Chelsea coming to The Reebok

Only Peterborough and Barnsley

So when the blast of the whistle blows in our ears

Then imitate that action of Wigan

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood

Disguise fair nature with a hard SKD tackle

Then lend the eye an early goal;

Let one fly from the edge of the area over Sorensen`s head

Like a Jay Jay shot; then let us overwhelm them

So fearlessly that Shawcross whimpers

And he calls for his mummy from his confounded base

Swill`d with the crys of two thousand Trotters

Bogdan set your feet and stretch that header wide

Or hold hard the ball after bending every sinew

To your fullest height. On, on, you fighting Bolton

Whose history is fet from fathers of Burnden Park

Fathers that, like so many Nat Lofthouses

Have in these parts from first to final whistle fought

And rolled over Stoke before with lack of argument

Dishonour not your fans; now attest

That those who you have called supporters have not beget you.

Be copy now to those men of 2003

And show you can do it again. And you, good substitutes

Whose limbs were made all over the world, show us here

That you are worth your contracts; which I doubt not,

For there is none of you so rich and lazy

That hath not survival in your eyes.

I see you stand like your predecessors in the tunnel

Straining for the kick off. The game will be played with your feet:

Follow your spirit, and upon the whistle

Cry ‘God, for Owen, Bolton and Sir Nat!`

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From the North, In the North.

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