On the 40th tour in search of laurels
In search of a trophy
Many years after shooting away a score of trophies
We walked on the desert plain for an oasis
Only to trip to a basketful of a hat-trick
Inflicted from the feet of the Desert Foxes
Oh what a test that set us on a failed trip!
First we journeyed to the North
…to Maroc
There we faced a scoring havoc
Our best bet never ceased to be on luck
The late shot never came as a shock
It was cooking
It was probing
It was coming
It came
We went
We saw
We were conquered
But in our national colours we are conquerors
Who said tweaa?
We journeyed on
…to Gabon
We drew first blood
It was through the boot of the Maestro’s footprint
And there was Dede in the Land
And occupants of the Jubilee were jubilant
See Gabon
See them cry
C’est si bon
See Gabon
They drew second blood
See us cry
Oh God why?
The late shot never came out of the blue
It was cooking
It was probing
It was coming
It came
And the Milo was soaked in hot waters
This Milo must leave our quarters
He must leave for his headquarters
A.S.A.P.!
…to Serbia
Sebeo, immediately!
Who said tweaa?
Still sojourning in the Cameroons
We waded in canoes
We swam on pontoons
Just to have a glimpse of the Island
…on the Comoros
Just a glimpse
When they came… the Distant Islanders
They saw us…the Giants of yesteryears
They conquered us!
And there was no Dede on the field
There was a sound of silence in the Jubilee
Deafening silence
Beckoning
Echoing
All hail the Giant Killers!
I saw it all
I heard it all said
All on my television set
“Hello Sir Milovac
Ye among retirees
Ye on SSNIT pension list
In S.A. we jumped to our highest
…so l recalled
In C.A. we slumped to our lowest
…so l saw
Can you tell us why?
Why we should not cry
Why you should not be fired?”
All on my television set
“Please Sir
In S.A.
We sailed on Asa’s boat
With a cargo christened ‘one-goal project’
It was piloted by your own Baby Jet
It was plotted on his shooting feet
We are now in C.A.
Now your Baby Jet is not on my sheet
Now I am a dead goat
Now I am an expired Milo”
An expired Milo!
A dead goat!
From the old horse’s old mouth
Oh I see
Now I get it
Tweaaaaa
We went
We saw
We were conquered
But in our national colours we are conquerors
Don’t say tweaa
