Team

Our team, they are simply crap

Get lost when they walk out

The keepers lost his gloves

He plays in, But that means nowt

I will tell  you for free

The keeper he can’t see

Lost the use of his eyes

When he was  a baby

We never keep a  clean sheet

For every team we play

Know we have Ray  Charles in goal

Without a piano to stop the shots

Grumpy and Dozey control the air

As every defence should

They climb upon each other

By which time the ball has gone

Past  our piano brother

Right back is where he belongs

The only place he can do no wrong

With the left back in the changing room

The wingers have all flown away

Had more sense than trying to stay

In forwards have all gone on strike

Which increased their shots on goal

The midfield try to run the show

But they are overrun

No place to go

Or team mates on the pitch