 It's been another year of heartbreak, with dreams shattered on the pitch We've got a line of Joe's cruelers, can't even scratch an itch The tactics are boring, the plays are total bore He could've run a piss up in a brewery, he's out of his depth for sure. The lionesses roar, they show us, it's been a bitter end, when they're feeling blue. The three-night's fucked it up again, eleven wankers on the field. More interested in cheating on their birds, than playing for our shield. They strut around like peacocks, all talentless and vain Arrogant and overpaid, it's always the same refrain Remember Bobby Moore, those legends from 66? They play with heart and glory, not these modern day tricks The lion men in their seashells Like they make us all believe But our voices disappoint On every single leaf Oh the three lions fucked it up again Just like they always do Since 66 it's been a bitter end We're left feeling blue Oh the three lions fucked it up again Eleven wankers on the field More interested in cheating on their birds Than playing for our shield We watch with hope each summer But it's always just the same They promise us the glory, but they only bring us shame Incompetence in motion, a manager without a clue We're dreaming of a victory, but it never does come true Oh, the three lions fought it off again. Just like they always do. Since 66 it's been a bitter end. We're left feeling blue. Oh, the three lions fought it off again. Eleven wankers on the field. More interested in cheating on their birds. Than playing for our shield. Oh, the three lions fought it off again., oh and won't we see the day That they play with pride and glory, and finally find their way The three lions fucked it up again, it's the same old sorry song Here's to hoping for a tomorrow, when they might just prove us wrong.