The Holy Poet turns his attention to the Man who continues to make us all smile:
So like the anti-Christ he’s back but not on bended knee
He’s back as a consultant complete with hefty fee
His first job up, to face the press, like a King upon his throne
But surely he must know now, he sits up there alone
Straight talking with his comments, he just doesn’t think things through
And slates the board, the coach, the team, he doesn’t have a clue
It’s as though he’s on a mission and with a tongue that’s like a rasp
He just lets rip with no remorse and the venom of an asp.
The fans are cringing as he speaks and want the man out now
But worse goes on behind the scenes as Watty takes his final bow
And then he digs out Sally, tells him, win the league and cup
Prove that you’re a manager or else your time is up
But Sally’s a west of Scotland man and never walks away
If confrontation’s what he wants he can have it any day.
But who asked him to come back and can someone tell them why?
Is it to take care of investments or to tell them all his lies?
Surely they don’t need his service, they’ve ten million in the bank
But when he asks regards the rest, he just draws on a blank.
Some things never change in life, you either sink or swim
And like Craigie bhoy, I think wee Chuck, is like Hector, just a Tim.
The Holy Poet