Paul Allen – Stick 'Ewe World Cup Where The Sun Don't Shine lyrics

Stick 'Ewe world cup where the sun don'T shine

Designer shirts with a big red rose, a bloke called Lawrence who gets up my nose. I'd shut 'em all up, if I could. I wish to fuck Clive Woodward would.
'Ewe can stick 'ewe world cup where the sun don't shine, wait until the Welsh boys run down the line.
'Ewe can take 'ewe O. B. E's and lay 'em on the grass, stick 'ewe fuckin' chariots up 'ewe fuckin' ass.
So 'ewe gotta fuckin' kicker who can drop the odd goal, I'd like to see him do it with my boot up his hole. 'Ewe got a manager who 'ewe call sir, you've had more fuckin' chariots than fuckin' Ben-Hur.
'Ewe can stick 'ewe world cup where the sun don't shine, wait until the Welsh boys run down the line.
'Ewe can take 'ewe O. B. E's and lay 'em on the grass, stick 'ewe fuckin' chariots up 'ewe fuckin' ass.
The Irish get lucky and the Scots get on 'ewe, some can't do it without the fuckin' Johnnies, the French have got they c***. The Italians got their pasta, when it comes ruckin' the Welsh are fuckin' faster.
Oh, now 'ewe won the world cup, buy some fuckin' shirts that fits 'you, will 'ewe.
You're on the T. V, on every back page, I thought it was an ad for help the fuckin' age. You're on the fuckin' wireless, you've been in with the queen, and not for the first time from what I fuckin' seen. O. K, so 'ewe won, now shut the fuck up, we've had a fuckin' tit-full of 'ewe and 'ewe cup. 'Ewe waved 'ewe flags, toasted 'ewe chariots, you've even had a roasting from fuckin' Ainsley Harriot.
'Ewe can stick 'ewe world cup where the sun don't shine, wait until the Welsh boys run down the line.
'Ewe can take 'ewe O. B. E's, lay 'em on the grass, stick 'ewe fuckin' chariots up 'ewe fuckin' ass.
'Ewe can stick 'ewe world cup where the sun don't shine, wait until the Welsh boys run down the line.
'Ewe can take 'ewe O. B. E's, lay 'em on the grass, stick 'ewe fuckin' chariots up 'ewe fuckin' ass.
'Ewe can stick 'ewe world cup where the sun don't shine, wait until the Welsh boys run down the line.
'Ewe can take 'ewe O. B. E's, lay 'em on the grass, and stick 'ewe fuckin' chariots up 'ewe fuckin' ass.
Oh, bring 'em down our fuckin' streets, see how long they lasts then boy, I'm fuckin' tellin' 'ewe
Oh, fack off.