Eric the King

We’ll drink, a drink, a drink, to Eric the King, the King, the King,
He’s the Leader of our football team,
He’s the greatest French Footballer,
That the world has ever seen.

Eric the King is remarkably trendy,
He’s done some modelling around town,
Wearing the best suits, up on the catwalk,
While the Leeds fans they just frown.

He once played for Marseille, but never for Arsenal,
Or Liverpool or even Man City,
Landed in Yorkshire, a terrible blunder,
That was nine months with the sheep.

He had a brief spell there, with the Leeds lot,
Until he realised that they were has-beens,
Only one way now, for Eric to go now,
To the Theatre of our Dreams.

On the feild it’s almost unreal,
Some of the things that Eric does,
Supurb overhead kicks, remarkable back-flicks,
I’m sure the guy just takes the piss.

Eric is so cool, remarkably cultured,
he like good music and poetry too,
Performing the fine arts, on the field,
For the boys they call Man U.

We’ll always remember that day in November,
As the time he made that special move,
Poetry in motion, the deadliest potion,
He’s got nothing left to prove.

He is a legend, without any doubt,
He will reign for years to come,
We’ll just stand there, in admiration,
With countless more trophies won.

We’ll drink, a drink, a drink, to Eric the King, the King, the King,
He’s the Leader of our football team,
He’s the greatest French Footballer,
That the world has ever seen.

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