O Me of Little Faith.
¶ 1
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After giving Pulisic,
Untold, untold negative shtick
He schleps up to the grave-yard of Turf Moor,
Where not only does he score?
But…goes on to bag himself…a perfect hat-trick*.
¶ 2
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Leaving me and any other stupid eejit
Above in the Gods of Heaven where I sit,
Had the gall to question our revered Christian,
(The answers Yes, I’m indeed a fickle man)
Looking like an absolute di…p-stick.
¶ 3
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I guess what I’m trying to say?
To ye fellow Blues of little faith
Don’t be making false assumptions
Let’s give a geezer some encouragement
Out there going at it for us, midst the fray.
¶ 4
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Truth is, he’s hardly had a kick this season
So there really ain’t a decent reason
For simply tossing him to The Lions (No!)
The Wolves, or even worse…them Irons( Whoa!)
When despite his fee, he appears to be at least half decent…
¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Sez I…eating humble apple pie, like Pulisic, from the good old U.S.A.
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