The Match Committee gathered
To plan their playing list;
Coaches, managers, doctors
And compounding pharmacist.
The coach said – I’m a winner
Don’t mean to be big notin’;
But you don’t win Cups and Brownlows
Without your share of Melanotan.
The other clubs have topped us
I know – I’ve got my spies in;
We’ve heard that Eddie’s brain fades
Come from Cerebrolysin.
Old Fletch is thirty eight
He can hardly get his leg in;
So for our first round draft pick
I’ll take strong Acto Vegin.
The midfield’s looking weak
Needs tough bodies to get stuck in;
Let’s draft that Greek weightlifter
Get Spriro Thymos in.
Our forward line’s a shambles
Kicked our lowest ever score;
He might be a lower pick
We’ll chance Nine Six Oh Four.
Kids are very well
You need experience in the guts;
We’ll shove it up the Magpies
Trade for Luke-Ball-Plus.
There’s some might think we’re cheatin’
There’s some might say it’s sin;
To make sure we’ve got the mettle
We’ll test Factor Insulin.
I won’t rest until we’re winnin’
I won’t sleep until we’ve cracked it;
Won’t let the bastards stop us
I’ll get Hexalerin redacted.
They might say we’ve pushed the boundary
But it’s winning that you feel;
When you lift the Premiership Cup
With the help of our Traumeel.
We’ve got to keep this secret
Can’t afford to miss the bus;
If other clubs catch wind
We’ll have to front the Tribulus.
I know we’re all blood brothers
Would die for the Bomber’s sake;
Remember our proud motto
What counts is “What You Take”.