With respect to ABBA.

He thought all night, he worked all day.
To get the team to start to play.
Ain’t it sad.
And still there never seemed to be,
no joy for Pools just misery,
That’s too bad.

In his dreams he had a plan.
To appeal to every fan.
He’d build a team to run through walls,
But then he found they had no balls.
Two days here Money.
This ain’t funny.
Things have gotten worse.

Money, Money, Money.
You’ve just came here.
Now you’re pushed upstairs.
Now all the things you said you’d do
Have now turned out too much for you.
So will you just go now,
Or hang about somehow

A boss like that is hard to find’
The chippie row played on his mind
Ain’t that sad.
He’s had his chips, he’s left the shop,
All caused by a chippie strop.
That’s too bad

So he’s left, he had to go
Where he’s gone to, no one knows.
It’s all too much at Hartlepool.
Being there was much too cruel.

Money, Money, Money.
It’s not funny.
But he had to go etc, etc,etc,

Do you wear your Agnetha wig to sing that one Smowy?

SHIT !!!!! Ok who told yer.

We want a picture!!!!

Oh no you don’t. You’re eyes will shut down to save your sanity.