Our games rules and regulations
Are now governed by grey suits
We’ve even seat preferential stadiums
Topped off, with perspex sliding roofs.
Action replays on huge mega screens
Show missed moments of each game
Very soon we’ll have a bloke who dreams
Up jolly tracks to spin, at every break in play.
No tackles from behind we’re told
Don’t interfere with play?
Yet still we’ve dodgy offside goals
Deciding close called games.
Don’t get me started on the players
Of whom enough’s been said
Whose wage demands outrageous
Are really doing in me head.
What next, cheerleaders? (pretty dodgy)
Before hoardes of jeering half cut blokes
Perhaps sing our national anthem at the outset?
What? Some teams don’t have one English throat.
There are radio conversations
Being heard throughout the land
About this cash from foriegn nations
Being welcomed by us fans.
A shopping mall’s on the drawing board
A theme park, or some psuedo Irish pub
Sometimes, don’t you just hanker for the days before
So much obscene money and it’s profiteers
Controlled once, sacred English football clubs?