Ode to Phil Brown

With his songs, his fur collars and tan
His headset, pink sweaters, the plan
Is to take his great name
To the top of this game
Phil Brown - I’m The Dude, I’m The Man.


He had a great striker in King
But he sacked him, now see, here's the thing
If you dare speak your mind
Pretty soon you will find
Yourself flat on your butt in Phil’s ring.


For his Cousin there's no brotherly love
No peace on the wings of a dove
He'd rather play Marney
Than praise Geovanni
He's the manager sent from above.


He’ll sit you on the pitch at half time
Play Garcia if you step out of line
Have plenty to say
On Match of The Day
Have a whinge, have a rant, get a fine.


He’ll sell his best players for nowt
‘It was out of my hands’, he will shout
He flogged Michael Turner
For a nice little earner
‘But we’re buying Ledley King and Dirk Kuyt'.


His players all think he’s a joke
He’s an ‘apple for Sir’ sort of bloke
Once Peter Halmosi
Brought a peach and a posy
And got twenty five minutes at Stoke.


He’s a self-obsessed Mackem full of twaddle
Who thinks he’s a Calvin Klein model
He plays one man up front
He’s a right Stephen Hunt
Sack him now – bring in Strachan or Hoddle.