Down At Windy Hill
They came wearing suits, and knocked on the door
‘Confess, you scoundrels, you’re guilty as sin!’
‘Our doors are open; we’ve not broken the law’
‘We’ve got nothing to hide, by all means, come in’.
The season was summer, though we all felt a chill
When the men wearing suits came down to Windy Hill.
A red and black hero, a favourite son
The merciless public, the wolves at the door,
A trial by media, the vultures have won.
Take all you can, still ask for more
They won’t stop there, they’ve not had their fill
They’ll tear up the flag, burn down Windy Hill.
The verdict is guilty, a terrible day
A club in disgrace, a club on its knees.
‘No time to lose, there’s football to play!’
‘Send out word! Come all, hear our pleas!’
‘Retirees! Rookies! There are list spots to fill!’
‘Come don the sash, down at Windy Hill’.
A season of longing, a season of pain
Defeat on defeat, no end in sight
Something to learn and everything to gain
No lacking in spirit, still full of fight
Try as they might, try as they will
They will not break us, down at Windy Hill.
A season of promise, our boys have come home
United we stand, together we fly,
Thousands on board, we don’t walk alone
A club reborn, our flag’s flying high.
The red and black army marches on still
A brand new day down at Windy Hill.
About Tim Kemm
25 years old. Red, black and nothing else. Masters Student at Australian National University, Canberra (where every week is an away game)
Bit long for a Club Song Tim. Maybe a Club Anthem, or Club Hymn even, eh? To what tune do we sing it? I reckon something from The Late Great Leonard Cohen’s requiem album would fit it. Or maybe Ring The Bells.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.