SONGS
Hello and Welcome to my lyrics page.Some of these chants you may find offensive, but i think they're funny
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '99: Leeds Scum
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, avoiding being a Leeds bastard would be it. The long term benefits of not being a Leeds bastard have been probed by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the poverty and meaninglessness of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the poverty and meaninglessness of your youth until you've been to Old Trafford and seen how the other half lives. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and be very ashamed of you replica shirt and how bad you really looked. You are as badly dressed as you can imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to beat the Mancs. The real troubles in your life are will come at Elland Road, the kind that hit you very hard on the back of your head while your legging it.
Do one thing every season that scares you (or don't come to Old Trafford if your Mum won't hold your hand).
Don't sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's sheep. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Flossy (your girlfriend).
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, the Mancs always win.
Remember smacks you receive. Forget that you lose to the Mancs every year. If you succeed in doing this, you're very sad.
Keep your old newspaper cutting of when you beat the Mancs. Throw away the massive fuckin? stack from when you get beat.
Stench.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life. The chances are you live in Beeston and don't have any fucking job prospects anyway Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know are Mancs.
Get plenty of sheep. Be kind to your sheep. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll pull, we all know you won't. Maybe they'll make bestially legal, maybe they won't. Maybe you'll beat the Mancs once this year, maybe you'll still be talking about it on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your win will be all chance. Whereas the Mancs will outclass you every other game.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Wanking is the closest you'll ever come to getting a shag.
Dance, even if there?s still injury time to go in the European Cup Final (ha ha).
Read the directions to Old Trafford and pretend to you mates your going, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read Football magazines. They will only remind you the those pesky Mancs are champions of Europe.
Try and find your parents. You never know the reason they threw you in the canal. Be nice to your sheep. They're your best link to your past and the people you're most likely to get a shag off in the future.
Understand that clothes come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on like that sweater you mum bought from Top Shop. Don't bother to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you'll realise that you never be as well dressed as the Mancs.
Go to Old Trafford once, but sneak into the ground as soon as it opens to avoid getting a kicking. Go to Elland Road once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel (but not to Manchester).
Accept certain inalienable truths: United will win. You'll shit it at Elland Road. You, too, will get old. And then you do you'll fantasise that when you were young Leeds always won, Leeds fans came to Old Trafford and stood, and people shagged sheep.
Normal people DON'T shag sheep.
Don't expect your parents to support you. Your mum's still working the streets at 50. Maybe you'll have a wealthy dad. But you never know when the police will catch up with the thieving bastard.
Don't mess too much with your dick or by the time you're 40 it will drop off.
Be careful which players you buy, Lee Sharpe ha ha.
Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, taking all the defeats away, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it such that you believe you were once any good.
Trust me I'm a Manc...
THE ANFIELD (C)RAP
It's Brucie here, with a truthful boast,
I'm the biggest cunt that stood between two posts,
I walk on my hands to disguise my bungles,
Everybody says I should heve stayed in the jungle.
.
It's the boy at the back, big Gary Ablett,
And it's true what they say, I'm a useless twat,
I distribute the ball by the normal route,
Over the stand with a fucking great boot.
.
I'm Steve Nicol, a dozy Scot,
And my IQ total comes to not a lot,
From my clothes to the state of the hair on my head,
You'd swear I've been sleeping in a garden shed.
.
I'm the Swedish Chef, my hair is so grey,
I must be fifty years old if a day,
Should have gone to Old Trafford, this dumps much worse,
My missus went shopping, someone nicked her purse.
.
I'm the skipper of this bunch, poor Paddy Whelan,
And I've never felt such an awful sinking feeling,
As my back-pass flew over Grobbleshite's head,
In the Stretty net, how I wish I was dead.
.
I'm Alan Hansen, I've been called world class,
But the guy who said that talked through his arse,
In International football's worst back four,
I got twenty-six caps, and I'll get no more.
.
I'm Quasimodo, the boy with the hunch,
An' I'm the ugliest bastard in an ugly bunch,
I don't scare defenders with my tricky runs,
But with the hump on my back and a flash of the gums.
.
I'm Jan Molby Dick the transvestite Dane,
Homosexuality's my only claim to fame,
I don't wanna transfer to Leeds or Leicester,
The only club I'll ever love is Oliver's Chester.
.
I'm the number nine, my name is big Gonzo,
Signed for three hundred thousand from the muppet show,
It's difficult to see why I'm a scoring hero,
Played United for a decade and I'm still on zero.
.
I'm big Johnny Barnes, I'm the king of the Kop,
When I play for England I'm a total flop,
I earn lots of money and I've got a big house,
And now I'm famous as a cheating scouse.
.
I'm pebblehead McMahon, I'm a sneaky scouse twat,
I'm a master of the elbow and the ankle tap,
As a dirty bastard I'm top of the form,
But I've always shat my pants when I face big Norm.
.
I'm jug-eared Kenny, I'm the boss of this crew,
And my whinging and complaining would make anyone spew,
We're never outplayed when we lose a game,
It's the ref or the linesman or the pitch that we blame.
DONT LOOK BACK IN ENVY
Slip inside a pair of blue strides,
Big Quinn puts it wide,
Once again.
You said that you've never been...
And all your Wembley dreams,
Slowly fade away.
.
So you start the relegation fight instead,
All of Alan Ball's plans you can only dread,
Step outside, it's summer time so soon,
Stand up with Lee's Paper waste,
Wipe your arse across his face,
`
Cos he ain`t ever gonna win you owwwt!
.
So City must wait,
They know their own fate,
As we're knocking them out.
Their dreams slide away,
But don't look back in envy,
I heard you say.
.
Take them to the place where we go,
Where no blue nose knows,
As it's not their day.
Please don't put your life in the hands,
Of the bitter blue fans,
Who always moan and pray.
.
So you start the relegation fight instead,
All of Alan Ball's plans you can only dread,
Step outside, it's summer time so soon,
Stand up with Lee's Paper waste,
Wipe your arse across his face,
`Cos he ain`t ever gonna win you owwwt!
.
So City must wait,
They know their own fate,
As we're knocking them out.
Their dreams slide away,
But don't look back in envy,
I heard you say.
.
But don't look back in envy,
No, don't look back in envy,
I heard you say.
Where's Wembley Way?