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He hails from Auld Reekie and he played for Aberdeen.
He had a spell at Man U and he won the League with Leeds.
He was Gaffer at Southampton and, I think, at Coventree.
Then he took a break and worked a while as pundit on TV.
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A summons came from Parkhead he could simply not refuse.
Much more attractive than The Saints or nowhere fast Sky Blues.
He signed a nice, fat contract, and he splashed out loads of cash.
Then flew to Bratislava, where his Euro Dream was smashed.
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It was one, two, three. One, two, three, four, five.
Gordon’s Green and White Bhoys felt like they’d been skinned alive.
They thought against Artmedia they would coast to victoree,
Now their prospects don’t look healthy, so they’re switching to Plan B.
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Up front they lacked all firepower, the midfield was a mess.
They’d four guys lined up in defence, but you’d have never guessed.
And one poor bloke between the posts, who hung his head in shame,
‘Cos they stuck five goals straight past him, though he barely was to blame.
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And it’s one, two, three. One, two, three, four, five.
Sixty thousand Parkhead faithful forced to bear cruel jibes.
The Ibrox fans are cock-a-hoop, The Hoops’ hopes take a dive,
And Strachan sure ain’t laffin’, wonder how long he’ll survive…