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And at the resumption,
It fizzles and cracks,
With passing and build up,
And counter attacks.

From Marshall, from Morison,
As both sides have a go,
Bradford look natural,
But Millwall gung-ho.

His side might look better,
In control of the ball,
But the match put ten years,
Onto Stuart McCall.

A chance for Jed Wallace,
Lee Gregory creates,
He scuffs it wide left,
And the hope dissipates.

And as it progresses,
It feels Millwall are growing,
They are finding their forwards,
Steve Morison showing.

And Bradford are fouling,
And Bradford look pained,
So they look to the bench,
And they try to force change.

Millwall did their thing,
Brought Ferguson on,
He took on set pieces
While Bradford went long.

And corners for Millwall,
And corners again,
It’s closer, it feels,
Not just if, but more when.

Bradford look flatter,
And struggle to play,
As if even they think,
It will be Millwall’s day.

Then it is! Then it’s Morison,
Stabbing it in,
A roar for supporters,
A mile wide grin

Suddenly sparking
And its backs to the wall,
Eleven striped bodies,
In the way of the ball.

There’s a chance at the death,
But McMahon smashes wide,
Millwall victorious,
And Bradford denied.

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