Let The Boys, Who Got Us There, Play!
¶ 1
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On a man made beach in Dubai
Lies a rich recovering star
A private plane has jetted him in
For mid season r and r.
¶ 2
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When the boys were digging in for points
And cup qualifying games
A private masseur soothed the injured joints
Of the star flown in by plane.
¶ 3
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Now the boys have reached a final
Our fit again “names” demand a game
But the gaffer has his own designs
On who’s playing at Wemberly, come cup final day.
¶ 4
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“I wanna meeting with the manager,
I ain’t sitting this out the bench
Is it hot air, this rabid anger
Along with empty idle threats?
¶ 5
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Look lads I’m really pleased yer fit
And ready for, end of season’s fray
But them boys in our squad who’ve put it in
Really deserve their chance to play.
¶ 6
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So a round of applause to our manager
For his rigid and admirable stance
No one should be be able to meander
Back in to our team, just because of who they are!
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