There once was a young man from Brighton
Who liked to sleep with the light on
Unfortunately, by the time he got to the third line of any limerick
He'd forgotten where he was going with it
Besides which he was no good at rhyming and
Had no concept of counting syllables or lines
Or making things scan properly
Which meant he was pretty crap at haikus as well
But at least he rhymed Brighton with light on
There once was a megalomaniac manager called Gus,
Who's sides were as entertaining as waiting for a bus.
I'm not saying they were boring,
but you could hear nothing above the snoring.
Even chess was more entertaining for all of us.
There once was a guy called Garcia
when he left us we all shed a tear
now he's gone to a team
to shatter their dream
and he won't last much more than a year
There once was a guy called Garcia
Whose teams played without any fear,
And no flair or speed
The supporters agreed
In fact all the football was drear.
Poyet the coach (not from Ealing)
Once had a peculiar feeling
For it said on the door
Please don't shit on the floor
So he stood up and shat on the ceiling