Woebegone Wanderers

Unstable stands afflush with fans
Pilfered piles and pints in wobbly hands…
In the bowls of the bar two boys spar
Don’t flinch an inch and territories marked
Oh I’d swear by my own cock and balls
And the family home’s four walls
There’ll be no treason this season
The players they bask
The boss he basks
Just win the big match it’s all I can ask
Darrell my son the bastards won
We’ve been lumbered with loosing life for far too long
The ground groans like the belly of a sleeping whale
Don’t flinch an inch you’ll be released on bail
Oh I’d swear by my own cock and balls
And the family home’s four walls
There’ll be no treason this season
The players are slack
The boss has been sacked
Just win the big match it’s all I can ask
Woebegone with weeping
That sets you down to sleeping…
Please canary, please be wary
The pit of a man’s heart is dark and scary
Oh are yer yellow with cowardice?
Oh are yer yellow with jaundice?
A slap on the arse from my baby
The hiss and the sting
And the mark of a ring
And the cold reality
Who are yer? Who are yer? Who are yer? Who are yer?