Its All Relative, Bud
¶ 1
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The World Cup is great,
I am bound to relate,
I’m glued to the most obscure matches.
I’m stuck on Iran,
Mexico and Japan,
And all of the hype that attaches.
¶ 2
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A fat, lazy loafer,
I sprawl on the sofa,
My beer balanced on my big belly.
And I’m volubly shocked
When my vision is blocked
By my wife trying to polish the telly.
¶ 3
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I fill in my chart,
Know the games off by heart,
And can quote who’s been booked or suspended.
I know each permutation
Without aberration
In each of the tables contended.
¶ 4
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Lying flat on my back,
This supreme anorak,
With my beer and my ketchupped chip butty,
Life seems pretty good,
But it’s relative, bud,
For it isn’t a patch on live footie.
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