I’m getting phucking sick of this
Excuses every Sat
Of why the team forgot to play
Their shorts all full of shat
He blames the ref, the kiosk Quine
Every single Joe
Another result like the buddies one
He’ll surely have to go
His beardy face and funcy tan
Makes all the wifies weet
But every time he opens his gob
It makes you want to greet
Just put the players on the park
With orders to attack
Even if we do go down
You’ll surely get less flack
What’s with the English lower leagues
Try scouting in Angola
It’s getting desperate times these days
Dust down Tangos Tumbola
One cup to show for his time
Is not enough for me
A great escape the other week
In the ****ehole of Dundee
It won’t be long now rest assured
He’ll get his P45
Then Scottish football will gasp in awe
As we really come alive
Who’s the man to take the helm
There really is only one
Let’s get a Johnny Foreigner
As longs he’s no a hun
So tick tock Del Boy it won’t be long
Till we’re waving you goodbye
Regrets of bottling other jobs
When your stock was high