Don't call us certanties
To the tune of 'Don't Stand So Close to Me' by the Police*
From Catland, the subject
Of media scrutiny
They want it so badly
Haven’t won since ‘63
Inside them, there’s longing
Keep failing on the big stage
Been building – they’re so close now
Oh 5hit just read ‘The Age’!!
Don’t call us, Don’t call us
Don’t call us certainties!
The coach gets so precious
Missed targets not night capers
Sometimes it’s not so easy
When the boys read newspapers
Aggravation, frustration
So bad it makes him sigh
Hurt players, they’re waiting
The drought is long and dry
Don’t call us, Don’t call us
Don’t call us certainties!
Sledge talk in the staffroom
The fans are hurt and they cry
Loose objects in the changeroom
Now they begin to fly
It’s no use, they’re the hunted
Our team starts to shake and linger
Just like the old man who
Gave Ayres the finger
Don’t call us, Don’t call us
Don’t call us certainties!!
Don’t call us, Don’t call us
Don’t call us certainties!!
regards,
REB
*Apologies to Sting