”Father this is my first confession
I’m not quite ready for it yet
We’re playing Spurs away on Saturday
How many goals d’yer think we’ll get?
‘My son I admire your chutzpah*
Asking me to predict the score
Then you’ll have a massive bet on it
Which you know’s against the law’
‘Anyway my son whats the odds
For a win at White Hart Lane
Get me a pony on the nose*
At best odds that you obtain’
‘But Father 2 to 1 is all there is about
We need to get some readies on
If we’re to have a shout’
‘Father how about the collection
Put it all on a win?
If you pray for Defoe to break his toe
Maybe we’ll make a killing’!
‘What did you come here for my son
To pray or land a gamble?
Its Blues to win and no more talk of sin
So cut this betting preamble’
‘My son, at White Hart Lane
Spurs always wane
So its on Blues
Who you should gamble’!