The dug out is an empty place
When the crowd bays for your blood
And the boys are but a waste of space
After failings on the cud.
You’re drinking tepid water
Trying to ease your burning throat
After shouting out new orders
At the useless gets you’ve coached.
That winger, ain’t been listening
When you told him to stay wide
Full backs doing just the same
Letting fast bloke come inside.
Your captains going ballistic
As he shouts out your commands
And as some of his team-mates are a bit simplistic
There’s very few they understand!
It worked out on the training ground
That move that’s come to nowt
You’re one down with it all to do
Can’t seem to spin it round.
With your game plan stuck on motorway
Lost in need of help
You need your bravest men to ride the waves
Of adversity trying to get you that result.
Week in, week out they turn it on
At random for their clubs
Yet at national level, somethings wrong
They may as well be subbed.
Keepers in a quandary
Confidence is shot
You wonder if he’ll let you down
By dropping that next cross?
Injuries have been a set back
Any old lame excuse
Will do for those who have no spine
Or the big match attitude.
Papers watching every move
At warm ups, training sessions
What will you have to do to really prove
Yourself or to teach them hacks a lesson?
You had a right old cushy number
When you coached domestic clubs
As the whistle blows for full time, you’re in lumber
Shouted at, abused in depth and ridiculed in pubs!