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Katie Borkins

Dusty in Memphis?

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Sorry, Dusty.

LDC was a preacher''s son

And when City were playing, he''d come along

Not that often, just twice a season

But it gave him plenty of reason

So when it came to "On the Ball"

He was certain he knew it all,

Yes, the only one who could aggravate me

Was a Cumbrian preacher man

The only one who could irritate me

Was a Cumbrian preacher man

He went on, he went on...

and on and on...

LDC always made me queasy,

No matter how hard I tried

First his lips would start pouting

While he praised old Chrissy Houghton,

Although I thought he was a dolt,

Apparently it was Snodgrass''s fault,

Oh, the only one who could keep repeating

Was a Cumbrian preacher man

The only one who kept on bleating

Was a Cumbrian preacher man

He went on, he went on...

and on and on...

How well I remember

The way he''d repeat his threads

The way we''d all shake our heads

Takin'' time to make time

Tellin'' us it''ll be fine

Although the Premier League could be tricky,

We can get twenty goals from Ricky,

Yes, the only one who could aggravate me

Was a Cumbrian preacher man

The only one who could irritate me

Was a Cumbrian preacher man......

*Repeat until dead*

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Apologies to Flanders and Swann - A bald fat old man

Was sitting one day

At his desk thinking "what shall I do?"

He gazed at his keyboard as it peacefully lay

"I know" he thought "I''ll stir some poo"

Away on a hilltop in Cumbria sat

His victim who never gives in

That lake district canary, always so wary,

Replied with his own litle spat

Bor, Bor, boring old bore,His song is only fit for wiping the floorHe writes and he utters 

Down in the gutters

And there he wallows in keyboard folklore

The lake district canary he''d aimed to annoy

From his seat on that hilltop above

As he didn''t give a sh*t, he got thought for a little bitand decided to give him a reply

Like thunder the hilltops

Re-echoed the sound

Of the song that Lakey did sing The old fat bald Bor, was about to get more

Of Lakey, who shouted this din

Bor, Bor, boring old bore,His song is only fit for wiping the floorHe writes and he utters 

Down in the gutters

And there he wallows in keyboard folklore

The herd pinkun army began to convene

On the board of messages we loveI wonder now what am I to say of the scene

That ensued after Bor''s push and shoveThey dived all at once

With an ear-splitting roar

To defend that poor Lakey again

A regular army of bor agravati

All singing this haunting refrain:

Bor, Bor, boring old bore,His song is only fit for wiping the floorHe writes and he utters 

Down in the gutters

And there he wallows in keyboard folklore

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Well personally speaking - I''d just like to award top marks to both efforts. A lot of work or not, I think they''re very good. Take the rest of the month off now chaps.

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