(Written a couple of weeks ago but unable to post owing to holiwags)

 

When I was a young boy, no more than a sprog

We cherished the beautiful game

But now it’s transformed from a Prince to a frog

And dirtied its great and proud name.

 

The game was a beacon which gave us so much

In innocence, pride and in smiles

Brazilian magic, the skills of the Dutch

And Banksy and Bobby and Stiles.

 

But young Master Blatter thought graft didn’t matter

Which mortally sealed football’s fate

You can chart FIFA’s sins from when Blatter begins

His reign in 1998.

 

He said women’s sports needed much shorter shorts

(A viewpoint that’s quite close to mine!)

That football should be free of technology

To tell if the ball crossed the line.

 

Old Sepp’s not yet gone

To pass on the baton

Though surely that’s Blatter’s next step

His tenure at FIFA

Could not have been briefer

Yes they’re coming, they’re coming for Sepp.

 

Now praise be to Blatter, the World Cup’s in Qatar

We’ll play when it’s 40 degrees

Is it just idle chatter that his bank account’s fatter?

He’s Top of the League for his sleaze.

 

Though Sepp’s a good talker but now they’ve got Walker

The writing is on FIFA’s wall

The Swiss and the Yanks will examine your banks

And hopefully clean up football.

 

Old Sepp’s not yet gone

To pass on the baton

Though surely that’s Blatter’s next step

His tenure at FIFA

Could not have been briefer

Yes they’re coming, they’re coming for Sepp.