The refs were all down at their local,
A pub that they’d often frequent.
They found it quite handy and focal,
So that’s where a lot of them went.
They were sitting there smiling and joking,
And brandishing cards for a laugh,
Getting quite pie-eyed and smoking,
And enforcing ten yards on the staff.
When suddenly, down from a rafter,
A white, hazy figure came wailing,
Which promptly put paid to the laughter,
And sent all the referees quailing.
Well, they thought it was something satanic,
This fiend from the Otherworld sector,
So they ran round the pub in a panic,
Afraid of the referees’ inn spectre.