Kick the ball with me
One more time
Kick the ball Daddy
Kick the ball with me
One more time
Kick the ball Daddy
Martin was born in England
With two left feet
The son of Irish immigrants
He'd get up early
To watch the weekend games
With bruised shins he'd come home late
And his Dad would say
Martin do your work
And put that bloody football away
But he'd sneak out to the stadium
And he'd stare up at the lights
And hear them chanting his name
In the beautiful game
In the beautiful game
He grew up fast
And he bought a one way ticket
Across the Atlantic to Michigan
For the promise of football
And an education
Away from nails and hammering
But he found snow instead of grass
And weight lifting
And the wrong football on TV
So he took his degree
And he moved down to Texas
To coach a high school soccer team
In the beautiful game
In the beautiful game
And that's where I met him
He was well into balding
We were on the same men's league team
And he'd give a half time speech
Every Sunday
To us half listening
It sounded like
Give it all you got
Give it everything
Cause this is everything to me
No other team got a half time speech
And I believed him
And I can still here him say
The beautiful game
The beautiful game
His dad would say
Find something else to do
Maybe football is not the thing for you
But he kept coming back to that 4-4-2
Like David Beckham
And Steven Gerrard
And Rio Ferdinand
And Shaun Wright Phillips
And Frank Lampard
And Brad Tisdel
And Sir Bobby Charlton
And the beautiful game
And the beautiful game
After the cheers and the handshakes and the beers
Martin remains
And he sits with his back to the goal post
Looking almost
Like he's always sat that way
He cracks a smile
And he lets his hand down
To feel the grass beneath
And he lingers
As he runs his fingers
Through the dirt and the dreams
Kick the ball with me
One more time
Kick the ball Daddy
Kick the ball with me
One more time
Kick the ball Daddy