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The Taxman’s taken all my bread,
He’s stripped me, I’ve got nothing left,
All I’ve got’s this no-hope football team.
So here I am sat in the Stand,
I stamp my feet and clap my hands,
Cheering on this no-hope football team.
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My wife and kids have run away,
They claim that I’ve got nowt to say.
(Except about this no-hope football team.)
I s’pose we’re going to get divorced,
And you know who to blame, of course –
Blame it on this bloomin’ football team.
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The bailiffs repossessed my house,
I’m broke, skint, poor as a church mouse,
Seems I’ll have to sleep rough on the streets.
And I must sell my watch,
My overcoat, my shoes and socks,
To find the cash to see this football team.
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Let me, let me, let me state it clear,
The plain and simple reason why I’m sitting here:
Because I love to watch this Sad Bunch play,
It helps to while the time away,
On a boring Sat’day afternoon…