The Dooley Fitba’ Club

[Verse 1]
Noo ye a' ken my big brother Jock,
His richt name is Johnny Shaw,
We'll he’s lately jined a fitba' club,
For he’s daft aboot fitba';
He’s twa black een already an
Three teeth oot by the root,
Whaur his face did come in contact wi'
Some ither fellow’s boot.

[Patter]
His fair daft aboot fitba'; if he wis jist as daft aboot wark, it wid be tae his credit. He raves about a "throw-in" – ma sang – I could sometimes gi'e him a "throw-oot." He sweers that their club has got yin o the best "passers" in the country; the individual referred to got three months lately, for passin' a bad shillin'. Ma fellow ye ken plays centre forword-half-back on thе left wing, an flees up an doon the field thеy tell me like a hat on a winny day. Their club is a gran’ yin; they lately played the Blin’ Asylum, an' scored a big victory, but for a’, I maun inform ye that –

[Chorus]
He's fitba' crazy fegs,
He's clean stane mad,
His fitba' capers robbed him o'
Whit we bit sense he had;
It wid tak a dizen servents
His clase tae patch and scrub
Since Jock’s become a member o'
the Dooly fitba' club.

[Verse 2]
Noo the first match they ever played,
I went mysel' and saw,
they'd twa half bricks for goal posts an'
A tin can for a ba';
The Prince o' Wales was present an'
Some lords and ladies grand,
So our Jock he got an eggbox an
Erected a grand stand.

[Patter]
'Magine the Prince o' Wales comin' tae Hampden Park tae see he's club play fitba' – so he says – an' he speaks the truth unless whin he tells lees, an' he niver tells ony mair than one lee at a time. It's a polisman keeps goal for them – his feet are nice an' big – they jist full the goal posts, an' naethin' kin get passin' him. They are tae play a big match on Saturday first; they're matched tae play the Barrowfield Ironclads – a club that defeated the Brigton Banebrakers by 1 goal to 0. In fac', a' his crack is aboot fitba', an' nae winner I'm compos'd tae say –

[Verse 3]
Of a' the fitba' clubs afloat
Jock sweers they are the prime,
An' ye oucht tae him bounce aboot
Their beatin' record time;
They've challenged a' the ither clubs
But nane 'ill tak' them up,
Since they played the Blin' Asylum team
For a Leather-Pated cup.

[Patter]
Ye'd lauch tae see them playin' wi a corn-beef can instead o' a ba' – mun they rattle aboot like mad. They had a match on wi' the Rangers, it wis for a "Charity," an' they realized the handsome amount o' 1s, & 9d. It was sent tae the Westren Infirmary in hap'ny stamps, but if he disna' mend his ways I'll leeve him the fac' is –

[Verse 4]
The auld wife sweers she'll put him oot
That's if he disna' keep
Frae kickin' up a rampus
Playin' fitba' through his sleep;
He'll cry oot it's a corner kick,
Or something else sae droll,
'Thither nicht he kicked me oot o bed
And he swore it was a goal.