Joe says, “We’re finished, league’s gone in May,” Dave shakes his head, “We’ve thrown it away,” Rain on the Mersey, pint in their hand, Moaning like it’s the end of the land. Every matchday, same old cry, “Top four’s gone and so am I…” Ohhh Joe and Dave, they never believe, Even when we’re flying, they’re ready to grieve, So they laugh and they joke just to get them through, Taking the mick out of Ste Sorro too! “Did you see that pass?” – “Yeah, it was shite,” “Season’s over!” – it’s week three, right? But when it gets heavy and hope runs thin, They turn to Ste for a laugh and a grin. Poor old Ste Sorrow don’t stand a chance, Target of every bitter glance… Ohhh Joe and Dave, kings of despair, Finding the doom when it isn’t there, But they laugh and they shout, it’s what they do, Taking the piss out of Ste Sorro too! Then there’s Eddie, pint number ten, Says “We’ll win the league” again and again, Trips on the curb, down he goes, Flat on his back where nobody knows… EDDIE! EDDIE! GET OFF THE FLOOR! YOU SAID THAT SAME THING TWICE BEFORE! Joe just sighs, Dave rolls his eyes, “Same every week, it’s no surprise,” But deep down under the moan and the gloom, They still believe… just not too soon. Ohhh Joe and Dave, loud in the crowd, Moaning their hearts but singing out loud, With Ste getting grief and Eddie on cue, Flat on the deck with a lager or two! Ohhh Joe and Dave, you know it’s true, Football’s misery—but we love it too!