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