They sing the homesick blues
“We miss our families”
These pampered prima donnas
Living in 5 star luxury
In Afghanistan they are home sick
They miss their families
The soldiers living in tents
Under fire from the enemy
They sing the we’re bored blues
“There‘s like nothing to do”
Like a bunch of seven year olds
Not men of over 22
We are so bored with these players
And their incessant whining
Waited on hand and foot
Living it up on 5 star dinning
They sing the we’re tired blues
Like we have any sympathy
Only having to play once a week
Then after training they are free
We’re tired waiting for our heroes
When eleven strangers appear
Where are the premiership stars?
Who play weekly without fear
We sing the England blues
As each tournament comes around
When each and every time
Our dreams lie tattered on the ground
