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ONLY FOOTBALL?

 

His forebears were the butchers on the field at Peterloo

They led the charge and cut the people down

They ruled the mill, starved weavers out, beat Chartists black and blue

Made millions in some hellish sweatshop town

I'm sure he cursed his countrymen in '84 and '5

His queen called them 'the enemy within'

He's the overseer, the usurer, drone within the hive

Whose wallet is his god, his kith and kin

 

and don't tell me it's only football

 

His system defines 'ownership' - a mess of paper shares

A slick deal, a commodity acquired

He pulls the strings and works the law so he controls the 'wares'

Then laughs at all the anguish he's inspired

Now we are many thousands, and he is only one

But law and state hold him in their embrace

What kind of law, what kind of state condones what he has done?

A state where social justice has no place

 

CHORUS

 

So don't tell me it's only football

And above all, friends, don't tell me please

That it's nothing to do with years of sleaze

The shattered lives and the corporate trough

Don't tell me it's just a sad one-off

That it's nothing to do with politics

That politics and sport don't mix

Don't tell me it's just bad luck

Because it isn't only football

 

Our grounds rose up near stations in old Victorian times

Most urban centres then were barely towns

Built for our teams, then left in trust to us across the years

By people who loved football, not just pounds

The vulture sees the soaring price of inner city land

An ailing club which he can desecrate

To us it's pride and history, the story of our lives

To him it's just some prime site real estate

 

CHORUS

 

Our culture has been colonised, our heritage is sold

And moneymen control our national game

It's devil take the hindmost, all hail the Premier League

And if you can't compete, well, that's a shame

There's a superstore development and it's coming to your ground

A pinstriped butcher's waiting with his knife

Brighton, Wrexham, anywhere - the message is the same

Let's kick him out - of football, and of life!

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ONLY FOOTBALL?

 

His forebears were the butchers on the field at Peterloo

They led the charge and cut the people down

They ruled the mill, starved weavers out, beat Chartists black and blue

Made millions in some hellish sweatshop town

I'm sure he cursed his countrymen in '84 and '5

His queen called them 'the enemy within'

He's the overseer, the usurer, drone within the hive

Whose wallet is his god, his kith and kin

 

and don't tell me it's only football

 

His system defines 'ownership' - a mess of paper shares

A slick deal, a commodity acquired

He pulls the strings and works the law so he controls the 'wares'

Then laughs at all the anguish he's inspired

Now we are many thousands, and he is only one

But law and state hold him in their embrace

What kind of law, what kind of state condones what he has done?

A state where social justice has no place

 

CHORUS

 

So don't tell me it's only football

And above all, friends, don't tell me please

That it's nothing to do with years of sleaze

The shattered lives and the corporate trough

Don't tell me it's just a sad one-off

That it's nothing to do with politics

That politics and sport don't mix

Don't tell me it's just bad luck

Because it isn't only football

 

Our grounds rose up near stations in old Victorian times

Most urban centres then were barely towns

Built for our teams, then left in trust to us across the years

By people who loved football, not just pounds

The vulture sees the soaring price of inner city land

An ailing club which he can desecrate

To us it's pride and history, the story of our lives

To him it's just some prime site real estate

 

CHORUS

 

Our culture has been colonised, our heritage is sold

And moneymen control our national game

It's devil take the hindmost, all hail the Premier League

And if you can't compete, well, that's a shame

There's a superstore development and it's coming to your ground

A pinstriped butcher's waiting with his knife

Brighton, Wrexham, anywhere - the message is the same

Let's kick him out - of football, and of life!

 

 

I prefer the first football chant ever "he banged the leather for goals"

 

and heres one I made earlyier

 

b b b biro giro, thank you everyone, thank you for paying your taxes im going to sign my g g giro with my b b b biro

 

biro giro by mystery man 2011

Edited by mystery man

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