A Chelsea Lament or a
The
Up to
They moaned and groaned about the wobbly ground,
And were met with the smiles and songs of the home crowd sound.
They came with millions, and Russians too,
But 't made no difference to me and you.
The
To halt the attacking
Oh deary me, nearly time for tea, half time approaches,
The
They came out fighting in these sad times,
Obviously frightened of the Siberian mines!
Soak up the pressure, defend with pride.
'til there's one in the net for the
The
While the
The final whistle approaches and the time ticks by.
Chelsea are ******, why tell a lie?
The whistle goes and
Never mind
More tea vicar, ain't life sweet.
All them millions just to get beat.
More tea vicar, ain't life a bitch.
Oh well lads, say bye bye to the filthy rich.
The moral to this story is needed to be told.
You come up North and bluster and shout,
Don't pussyfoot about.
'
Tha gets nowt out!