“Whats goin’ on?” the cry frustration
Chances lost and none are taken
World class squad and spent a fortune
Advocating squad rotation
Some came in and cleared the dust
And seperated gold from rust
Now Ian St John has made it known
And no one thinks he walks alone
The board must act be swift with sword
More losses we can ill afford
Lions led by donkeys yes?
A horse’s arse we better guess!
Since when was 4th acceptable?
And FA failure palatable?
Have we fallen now so far behind
The Emperor prays we’re all still blind?
A season over thrown away
Like night shuts out the light of day
The warmth of summer turned to cold
Excuses lame, and Robbie sold
What now the quislings turn to ask
And lies seep out from every mask
Poor Caesar he was stabbed betrayed
Can Martin O’Neill now save the day?
What now the Reds the fallen gods
Whose football gold now clay as pots
But saddest when they ask of you
“Didn’t you used to be Liverpool?”