Substitute For Another Week.
¶ 1
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Lets hear it for the fellows on the fringe
Who rarely start a game
Unlike the stars they never whinge
And no one sings their names.
¶ 2
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In track suit tops, they sit arms crossed
On edge behind the gaffer
Praying that he’ll raise their stock
With a “Right son lets be having yer”.
¶ 3
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Never gives an interview
Or pens a column in the press
Rarely seen on Soccer AM
Or heard on Desert Island Discs.
¶ 4
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The next time your mob score a goal
Look quick towards the dug-out
To watch these fellows lose control
Cos after all, without any shadow of a doubt
It’s all part of what being, a member of the teams about.
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