It Wasn’t Your Fault Lads. Never Mind!
¶ 1
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The portly bird has rested her chords
Him what ate all the pies? Looking slim
As jobsworth opens the stadium doors
Megastore Jack and Jills ring.*
¶ 2
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Latest chic shirts are in big demand
As holiday money runs out
Tee shirts and shorts show off our suntans
Our month of suffering, bile in our mouths.
¶ 3
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Will we cheer on the boys in the warm-up?
Will we verbally scream out their names?
Will an embarrassing World Cup be easily forgot?
Midst the passion of Premiership games?
¶ 4
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Of course we’ll forget that long summer
When we dismally failed in our game
It’ll be yesterdays news when the two teams run out
And Capello gets stuck with the blame!
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