TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SPARTA

Twas the night before Sparta, and outside the ground

Not a game plan was brewing, no hope to be found

(1/15)
A star soon appeared, on a move he was keen

He’s felt that way since 2019

(2/15)
Then who should appear but two of the midfield

Possession to Sparta they would shortly yield

(3/15)
A badge from the future, it lit up the night

“Tomorrow,” it said, “you’ll play utter shite”

(4/15)
“What’s wrong wee man?” our elf wanted to know

“Will our leaky defence cost us 10-in-row?”

He looked him in the eye, put a hand to his head

“Rangers live here, although they are dead”

(5/15)
“..............”

“Mate, you’ve hit the mute button”

“I said blame it on Griffiths”

“Oh hi there Chris Sutton”

(6/15)
Then one of the boys became slightly vexed

“We’re trying to work and this prick’s sending texts”

(7/15)
A helper was found who soon became a hero

“Fuck this,” he thought, “take me back to San Siro”

(8/15)
The Sparta attack, they needed a lift

Thankfully Duffy prepared them a gift

(9/15)
“Group H isn’t pretty” they declared to Neil

Then pointed to Sparta Prague, Milan and Lille

(10/15)
A captain appeared but the night passed him by

“He’ll never be dropped but Neil won’t explain why”

(11/15)
Their leader emerged, saying “...this...us”

His message obscured by the chewing of snus

(12/15)
He turned to his helpers and said with a grin

“It isn’t my fault, someone’s doing us in”

(13/15)
A saviour emerged, fit to wear the crown

“Sorry pal but I’m sticking with Scott Brown”

(14/15)
Then the leader exclaimed, ere he drove out of sight

“If you think we’ll get pumped, you’re probably right”

(15/15)
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