In those halcyon days of black and white
The terror of heading the ball too much!
No defender risked their life
In challenging Andy Carrol's might.
But now his hair much sleeker
As evidenced upon leaving the field
The locks are free to bounce
And shine and shimmer,
To glint the floodlit tears of fans.
Now Carrol and Samson
Are far apart, it's nothing to do with length,
But I've a sneeking suspicion that something's changed,
That Andy's been using shampoo.
Before he towered, tried, and thundered,
No one got too close,
His lank mane caused a shudder
But now it's too often perfumed.
That ancient stench of sweat and tabs
A fortnight in the pub,
His showers were amber
Boots covered in piss
And hair conditioned by Lambert and Butler.
Now he tries to no avail
His follicular folly such a shame,
Tramps around from ground to ground
The Euros a fading light,
His one last chance! He sees at last!
Pre-season! Everything can change!
The John Parkin routine, intensive
Repulsive, perfect!
To spend the summer whistfully
A can in hand a fag in the other
Sitting on the dock of the bay.
