I recall my youth, going out with my mates.
Seems long ago now, my body relates.
I miss playing football, and watching the games.
I know as "ex pats", we all feel the same.

A longing for custard, on apple pie.
A passion for cricket, now that's a suprise.
Yorkshire on Sundays, along with roast.
Dark brown gravy.... ahh Bisto... it smokes.

I don't miss the traffic on the m25.
The third lane lunatics, on a caffeine high.
Sunday drivers really "pissed me" off.
Give 'em 2 fingers" "hey mate"..... "cough"

I miss getting frozen, down on our coasts,
The illuminations in Blackpool, the host.
Getting pelted by sand, as you walked along.
I was 2 miles from the beach .....where's it from?

I miss my foundation, the concrete below.
I miss that security, of being on the dole.
What happened to" Cloughy" where is our "Pat."
What happend to "Besty", still getting fat.

I could do with a curry, and a few beers.
I love my "ol' man" and my "ol' dear" .
Give me the "arsenal", against the "spurs".
Or "gimme "some bingo... the early bird.

We are the whiners, put any country to shame.
Give it a pulse, and we will use it to blame .
Gimme "ol blighty", please keep in touch.
Talk to me England.......I miss you so much.

" chris thripp"