popillius
Well-Known Member
T'was the night before Christmas and in the safe house,
Alex was drinking a bottle of Grouse.
City Fan was nestled all snug in his bed,
Whilst visions of Cooper danced through his head.
Superscout was busy making his list,
Whilst Alex watched homer, greasing his fist.
Joe Fox was betting and not on hiatus,
Rich was pretending their fans didn't hate us.
When what on the horizon was looming so large,
But a confused bearded man on a massive great barge.
With a sock for a glove and a glove for a sock,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Boc.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
Brown Nose was singing out words from the street,
Whilst his tin foil helmet was working a treat.
And Miles Away had tears in his eyes,
As he watched on while strikers just glided past Faes.
Top's big decisions to a twat delegated,
That **** Pop still thinks that we won't be relegated.
The scousers were beating up give us a wave,
Whilst Hazzman the Trust, he was trying to save.
For the TB awards many went on the hunt,
But BM's refusing the lazy great ****.
Santa was leaving, his sleigh full of plenty,
For Micky a glass that is always half empty.
And as he flew out of sight, the forum did sing,
He's a top top gift giver and we're lucky to have him.
Merry Christmas TBers, you filthy animals.
Alex was drinking a bottle of Grouse.
City Fan was nestled all snug in his bed,
Whilst visions of Cooper danced through his head.
Superscout was busy making his list,
Whilst Alex watched homer, greasing his fist.
Joe Fox was betting and not on hiatus,
Rich was pretending their fans didn't hate us.
When what on the horizon was looming so large,
But a confused bearded man on a massive great barge.
With a sock for a glove and a glove for a sock,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Boc.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
Brown Nose was singing out words from the street,
Whilst his tin foil helmet was working a treat.
And Miles Away had tears in his eyes,
As he watched on while strikers just glided past Faes.
Top's big decisions to a twat delegated,
That **** Pop still thinks that we won't be relegated.
The scousers were beating up give us a wave,
Whilst Hazzman the Trust, he was trying to save.
For the TB awards many went on the hunt,
But BM's refusing the lazy great ****.
Santa was leaving, his sleigh full of plenty,
For Micky a glass that is always half empty.
And as he flew out of sight, the forum did sing,
He's a top top gift giver and we're lucky to have him.
Merry Christmas TBers, you filthy animals.
