World Cup Villanelle

So, England are out of the World Cup. What's a fellow who was born in England but is now resident in Wales (the Principality, not the cetaceans -- that never gets old, bless it) to do, except re-write that legendary fellow denizen of the Western Marches Dylan Thomas's most famous villanelle? (Thomas is due more than the customary apologies here, since "eight" doesn't rhyme with "right", but even so, I shall plough on regardless...Oh yes.)

Do not go gentle into that last eight
Old squads should preen and moan, not football play
Flap, flap against the crosses from the right.

Wise men still say that 4-4-2 is right
For their words are said in the Italian way
Do not go gentle into that last eight.

Good men, the English wave by, crying how slight
Their feeble challenge seemed in light of day
Flap, flap against crosses from the right.

Old men who dropped the ball and showed no fight
Are now knocked out, too tired, and on their way
Do not go gentle into that last eight.

Grave men, outplayed, who see with blinding light
They can't defend and are not worth the pay
Flap, flap against the crosses from the right.

And you, the boss, who did not scale the height
Curse you now, and your rigid style of play
Do not go gentle into that last eight
Flap, flap against the crosses from the right.