Ian McMillan

World Cup and poem kept recurring.

I kept thinking of how the rhyme and the rhythm are going to drive this poem to make it celebratory and also because it's going to be heard on the radio so a lot of people will only hear it once and they haven't got the time or the luxury yet

of reading it on the page.

Because I've been doing this a long time, I have the confidence to know that if I just leave it for a while to marinate, something will emerge.

So we'll have a go and see what happens in the morning.

I'm going to sleep on it.

They sing, they chant.

I'm always overjoyed by the fact that it's a place where you can get a group of men singing who would never normally sing.

You know, the women sing as well, but you get a group of working class men singing.

Our song at Barnsley is just like watching Brazil sing.

which it wasn't really, but we sang it to the tune of Blue Moon.

We'd go, Brazil, it's just like watching Brazil.

It's just like watching Brazil.

And then, you know, the way that people will come up with shouts and individual lines that are like a line of poetry.

And what I also like is, like all oral poetry,

It doesn't belong to anybody, it belongs to everybody.

And somehow, you'll have seen this, the best chance seemed to just appear from nowhere.

Here's the same draft of the poem.

The World Cup is a shining poem.

The whistle blows and the game begins and the words begin and the song.