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They call me Tundra Boy
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: In your linen cupboard.
Posts: 1,208
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Here's my attempt - sung approximately the tune of "Little Jesus, Sweetly Sleep", minus the crappy phrase which holds the song up (if you know the song, you'll probably know which one I mean):
Germany may play at home But the outcome we all know We will thrash you, thrash you, thrash you We will thrash you, thrash you, thrash you We'll crack your shins with no regrets And put the ball inside your net Other teams, they have no chance Against the mighty England (sung as Ing-ger-land. you know the drill...) We will thrash you, thrash you, thrash you We will thrash you, thrash you, thrash you See us stitch your keepers up Our name's written on the cup EDIT: Sorry if I'm nicking your thread here Hobo!, but this can be a football anthem thread! |
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Avin' It!
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Quote:
Come on Ing-ger-land, come on Ing-er-land, Bring on Italy, France and Brazil, They'll try their best, but we'll win through, Come on Ing-ger-land. Fat Frank gives the ball to Becks, Easy, easy, He crosses the ball and Rooney nets, Easy, easy goal. Easy, easy goal, Easy, easy goal. He crosses the ball and Rooney nets, Easy, easy goal. When we win the World Cup, We'll get pissed up, And sing this song to you, We're gonna sing all night, We're gonna sing all day, Two World Wars and two World Cups, Come on Ing-ger-land. Come on Ing-ger-land, come on Ing-ger-land, Two World Wars and two World Cups, Come on Ing-ger-land. That's the best I got. ![]()
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Choose Liverpool. Choose the dole queue. Choose to scam disability benefit. Choose mind-numbing, grinding efficiency over flair. Choose Torben Piechnik, Istvan Kozma and Paul Stewart. Choose not to win a single league title since the backpass rule was implemented. Choose penalties. Choose car stereos, hubcaps and stanley knives. Choose to trade on your proud sense of tradition and then not lift a finger in protest when two American billionaires who don't even know the name of your club decide to buy it. Choose to win the European Cup whilst only having to play seven matches. Choose to bask in a perpetual, sickening, media love-in. Choose celebrities who **** off out of your city as soon as they have earned the money to do so and then spend the rest of their lives harping on about how wonderful it is. Choose to sing about Munich until confronted with your own tragedy. Choose to end it all in an orgy of self pity, just another excuse to perpetuate the grief culture spawned by your selfish, insular ****ed-up excuse for a city. Choose your future. Choose Scouse. |
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They call me Tundra Boy
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: In your linen cupboard.
Posts: 1,208
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