Here we go again, another saturday game
I really hope, this time, our striker, doesnt play lame
The last time, he showed the crowd, how to be, a lame duck
But the rest of the lads, said, ”Luigi now look”
We’re playing for our futures here, we don’t need that
You, playing like an armpit, and, showing us what
And, why, the gaffer, got you gratis, free, not paying a penny
Only ‘cos’, unknown to us, you weren’t worth any
You’re definitely not playing, like you ‘oughta’
Are you having it, away with, the gaffers daughter
You must be, ‘cos’, you’re always getting picked
Every week, before a ball’s, been headed, or, kicked
First name on the teamsheet, is always, you, the Clapham dynamo
Why? the rest of us wish, that, someone would let us know
Until that day comes, and, we’ve been informed
Our outlook on you, will be looked at, and, reformed
Then hopefully, you’ll play, and, earn your place
Instead of looking, like, an alien from outer space

Tags: Outer, Space, Striker