Football is a religion,
to that we all agree,
and if this upsets the bible belt,
to leave now they are free.
We’ll trek towards St Mary’s,
where the Saints have marched on in,
just me and a few of the Masses,
off to repent our sins.
We enter the Derek Temple,
and at a Dave Cross make the sign,
and Phil Neal down on a Graham Pugh,
and ask for peace and John Devine.
We see born again Christian Dailleys,
with slogans on their chests,
‘Jesus Arellano Saves,
but Remi Moses he invests.’
Ian St John pops his head in,
but very quickly leaves,
and someone shouts after him,
“where the hell is Greaves?”
We see little Maradonna,
looking fit and tanned,
goal hanging around the alter,
carrying someones hand.
We enter the confessional Tommy Booth,
to replenish all our sins,
and pray that all our games this year,
will all be handsome wins.
We see Juan Pablo Angel,
floating up above,
and listen to Ian Bishop,
preaching peace and love.
We listen to sermons from Jim Cannon,
and scripts read by Frank Parson,
and a bloke called Danny cries,
THERE IS GHOD !!!!
as he points to Henrikk Larsson.
Don Rogers walked on water,
but we don’t see him around,
and David James is scared of crosses,
so he’s nowhere to be found.
We see a very Jason Priestly looking,
Evertonian Dixie Dean,
and Sister Teresa Niall Quinn,
as he was called by Man U’s Keane.
The Tony Book of Genesis,
by Owen Archdeacon is read aloud,
and Eddy Pope of the U.S.A.
waves to the surging crowd.
We see three Dennis Wise men,
plus Mark Lazurus and Frank Saul,
and a picture of Jimmy Gabriel ,
up on the Ben Abbey wall.
We notice all the mni gods,
like Kenny and Henrikk,
and the Gregg Abbot tells us,
the earth will be inherited by the meek.
We’re told that if we live by it,
then we’ll die too — by the sword,
thundered down from the Roy ‘Evans,
by Burnleys old Bob Lord.
It’s nearly time to leave,
the visit has been nice,
and I make one last request,
that we hammer Millwall twice.
So we leave the Ivor Allchurch,
vowing to live on fish and bread,
looking forward to opening day,
and the forty weeks ahead.
So my Jermaine Pennants have been served,
I’m now a faithful member,
and I’m tipped off by the man upstairs,
that we’re going up with Kember.