Alan Shearer, King of the Rodeo

His boots are made of leather
And now he's earned his spurs,
A shirt of finespun cotton
And Levis 501s.
A bolo tie of splendour
He don't wear no cravat,
Grabs his cream fringed jacket
To match his stetson hat.
Out on the plains
That's where he struts his stuff,
Roping in a steer,
No one quite so tough.
All through the West
His famous name is heard
England's great sharpshooter
The goalscoring wizard.
It's Alan Shearer
King of the rodeo,
Oh Alan Shearer
King of the Rodeo.

Ode to Gary Mabbutt

He only won two trophies
And he's remembered for his knee
But Gary Mabbutt commands a space
In many people's hearts.

Ask the general public
Who's the nicest man in footie?
Most will say Lineker
But I'd remember Mabbsy.

He won sixteen caps for England
He played over six hundred league games
All the while he had diabetes
And never complained.

His broken legs were devastating
His own goal lost the cup
But injecting an orange on Blue Peter
More than makes that up.

For Gary Mabbutt was more than a footballer
He seemed a normal bloke
And his greatest ever performance
Was on The Queen's Nose.

Inside Alan Shearer's Mind

The Ballad of Jeff Kenna

Sucking on a sour sweet
He never looks at ease,
The sun is always in his eyes,
That pass he never sees.
He's played alongside Shearer
At Rovers and Southampton too
And now he's moved to Florida
To start his life anew.