I blame the vomit-sprayed Real Madrid shirts With very little, or no, appeal, And Burton for turning up wanting to win And it goes without saying, A. Neil I blame the Smith and the Jones and the Balls And others who stand at the wheel, Doing their damnedest to sail a straight course And it goes without saying, A. Neil I blame the weather, as so often one can When living where it´s such a big deal, Too hot or too chilly, too bright or too dim And it goes without saying, A. Neil I blame the ref and his assistants too For chipping in where they could steal, An advantage for those who had the most to lose And it goes wíthout saying, A. Neil I blame above all, this ridiculous league Where other teams won´t walk to heel, They don´t obey any commands that we give And it goes without saying, A. Neil.
