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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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