At Nick’s, the spread was a treat,
Where the Folkestone Men’s 2s went to eat.
Alfie brought all the fines
In a golf ball box—signs
Of a morning that couldn’t be beat.

To the pitch where the stakes were quite high,
Burnt Ash needed points to get by.
Folkestone wanted the win
To end with a grin,
While Wishy had goals in his eye.

Captain Kyle took the lead with a glide,
Past three men on the defensive side.
In a matter of ticks,
With some beautiful sticks,
He slotted it home with such pride.

The Bens, Shaw and Stone, hit the right,
Winning corners with all of their might.
Then Wishy stepped in,
With a confident grin,
Two flicked PCs finished the flight.

Alfie found plenty of space,
Turning markers all over the place.
Neil’s hamstring was tight,
Gaz took off like a light,
But was tripped at a lightning-fast pace.

Cheapy's stick gave a waft, rather rude,
So the umpire’s yellow ensued.
Bono saved on the line,
Matt’s defending was fine,
At three-nil, the halftime was viewed.

Coach Jack said, "Let’s tighten the screw,
The intensity’s all up to you.
Put a nail in the lid,
Finish what the boys did,"
As the second half came into view.

Hugo picked off the ball from the back,
Setting up the next waves of attack.
Crooky drew every foul,
Making defenders growl,
While Theo tracked back on the track.

Breandan thought he’d scored for the crew,
But a foul came right into view.
Cieran plucked from the sky,
With a wink in his eye,
And danced past a defender or two.

Wishy’s hat-trick was flicked to the post,
The skill that the keeper feared most.
Then a Jedi-like save
From the Bono we crave,
Before Burnt Ash snuck one past the host.

Harry nearly scored one at the death,
Winning a corner with this final breath.
Wishy stopped it himself,
Put his fourth on the shelf,
And the crowd let out a "holy-be-beth!"

A five-one result was the score,
Fourth place—could we ask for much more?
With a team this sublime,
We’ve had a grand time,
And we’re coming back hungry for more!