They sing the homesick
blues
“We miss our families”
These pampered prima
donnas
Living in 5 star
luxury
In Afghanistan they
are home sick
They miss their
families
The soldiers living in
tents
Under fire from the
enemy
They sing the we’re
bored blues
“There’s like nothing
to do”
Like a bunch of seven-year-olds
Not men of over 22
We are so bored with
these players
And their incessant
whining
Waited on hand and
foot
Living it up on 5 star
dinning
They sing the we’re
tired blues
Like we have any
sympathy
Only having to play
once a week
Then after training
they are free
We’re tired waiting
for our heroes
When eleven strangers
appear
Where are the
premiership stars?
Who play weekly
without fear
We sing the England
blues
As each tournament
comes around
When each and every
time
Our dreams lie tattered on the ground
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