.jpg)
Written by The Yank:
“I’m a football man, “ he said,
As if to cure all ills,
But words will never pay the rent,
Or cover unpaid bills.
“I’m a football man, “ he claims,
Whenever he is able,
Nor does that pay your employees,
To put food on the table.
“I’m a football man, “ he jests,
In hopes to get a laugh,
But that won’t take you very far,
When you have no office staff.
“I’m a football man, “ he states,
To please the angry hoard,
So no one will look up the names,
Of the oft-rotating Board.
“I’m a football man, “ he sings,
The chorus never ceases,
To drown out all the questions,
Of who should hold the leases.
“I’m a football man, “ he hopes,
In tricky situations,
Will sort out little problems,
Such as safety regulations.
“I’m a football man, “ he cries,
With quite suspicious haste,
To try to cover up the mounds,
Of dumped illegal waste.
“I’m a football man, “ he pleads,
A stance whence he won’t budge,
Yet this won’t do a lot of good,
When pleading to a judge.
“I’m a football man, “ he feels,
As if to offer proof,
That he can build a football team,
With inexperienced yoof.
“I’m a football man, “ he prays,
And tries to fill the stands,
But you cannot be a football man,
If you haven’t any fans.
