Bees buzzing, birds singing
The jack turning off the crown
A lawnmower in the distance
The wood coming nicely ’round
Sitting near the green just chatting
A bad rub, a blocked line
Watching that throw for length
A bias on the garden cutting it fine
“See you tomorrow, Ada”
“See you tomorrow, Bill”

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dogs
Aided and abetted by the Local Hunt Sabs

The Saturday afternoon tradition
Three falls and one submission
Boston crab and half-nelson
Bouncing around for television
Learn the moves and collect your pay
I’ll be the one they boo today
Nothing at all to do with sport
Just cheap entertainment, of sorts

Never good enough to win the race
He was always asked to make the pace
Speeding off then left behind
To watch someone else win the golden mile
Tired of always being forgotten
Whilst others got the glory
He decided to set out one day
And run himself into history
So next race in he set the pace
Then carried on and on
Have you heard the one about the pacemaker?
He won!

Boys own hero born again
Savior of the Empire
Come to save our national game
Against all odds, and umpire
Once a simple cricketer
now champion of bravado
He’s the darling of the tabloids
‘Cause he’s got a trendy hairdo
The game was having trouble
Filling advertising space
So our hero padded up
Media face, medium pace

Hey bugger me, now where’s mi clogs?
Sunday cap and Sunday togs
Come along and pare some shins
Winner often wins
Hey ho! And away we go!
Kick your opponent’s shins, oh!
Hey ho! And away we go!
Legs are made to bleed, oh!
Up the hills wi’nothing on
Down the pike to Todmorden
Battling at the village fete
Where shin and clog will meet
Hey ho! And away we go!
Kick your opponent’s shins, oh!
Hey ho! And away we go!
Legs are made to bleed, oh!
Oh! Oh!
Hey ho! And away we go!
Kick your opponent’s shins, oh!
Hey ho! And away we go!
Legs are made to bleed, oh!

Here’s a good sport, it’s easy to play
And as good a way as any of throwing your money away
Betting offices, men only
Tobacco smoke and radio commentaries
Betting companies first past the post
They’re off to Bermuda on the money you lost
Money you lost

There’s pedal bikes and motor bikes
And now they’re riding mountain bikes
Up and down and out of town
Over, under, through, around
I ride my little bicycle, I ride it to the top
No red lights or traffic signs to tell me when to stop
There’s racing bikes and motor bikes
And now they’re riding mountain bikes
Up and down and out of town
Over, under, through, around

Remember Mexico ’86?
“Dirty” Diego, the Saint and Greaves
All covering up the cracks of an economic crisis
What the cameras don’t show the viewers won’t notice
Earthquake victims still in shacks
And 5,000 steelworkers given the sack
The protestors demanding beans not goals
The reality hidden as the spectacle prevails
Create a diversion, hide the real poverty
With pockets full of money, with stomachs still empty

I saw one legged skiers, agile and graceful
In and out the slalom, rushing ever downwards
And there weren’t any losers
I saw marathon runners, strong and determined
Hunched in wheelchairs, and pushing ever onwards
And there weren’t any losers
And there weren’t any losers