Hearts of Vladland Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Help with a poem or that ever it is. The one that slags Hibs and it is like Choose Hibs. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
slashishere Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Choose Hibs Choose Hibs, choose Leith, choose not winning the cup for over 105 years, choose Gareth Evans, choose a disabled fan?s carer running on to the park for a sly kick at Stuart Dougal, choose ?2.99 for 3 litres, choose the smell wafting from the Seafield sewage works over the Links each morning, choose loosing to a bunch of Lithuanian waiters in the Inter Tattie cup, choose entering the Inter tattie cup in the first place, choose Jocky Scott, choose dirty needles, choose not selling out the biggest match in your club's history, choose having the worst derby record in the entire world, choose Amadou Konte, choose making a big deal about being ?the first to wear the green? like it actually matters, choose being one day away from being closed down by your biggest rivals, choose looking like you ran out of peroxide half way through, choose being ?classy? when 96% of your your support is made up of chavs, choose singing songs poking fun at refugees, choose trying to kid people into believing that you?ve always played good football when the truth is that you?ve been absolutely ***** for 30 years, choose the Leith San Giro, choose thinking your players age slower than Peter Pan, choose going on and on and on and incessantly on about a game that occurred before most of you were born, choose the Loch Inn, choose getting humped 5-1 by some Ukranian team whose name nobody can pronounce, choose hiring an open-top bus for a cup final against a diddy team and then proceeding to loose the match, choose loosing 30,000 ?fans? on the way home from said cup final, choose thinking Portobello beach is the Copacabana and Easter Road is the Maracana, choose going 2 goals up after 92 minutes of a New Years day derby match and still not winning, choose your derby rivals having won more derby matches at your (crap) ground than you have, choose to go on and on about once beating Real Madrid in a friendly match, choose running on the park for a sly kick at Andy Goram, choose Salamander Street, choose Derek Riorden, choose going 22 games in a row without beating your biggest rivals, choose making a big deal about a scoreboard that worked for a month, choose Alex Miller, choose incessantly going on about how some shady Russian is going to sell Tynecastle and shut Hearts down only to look on in horror as he invests heavily in the team, writes off millions of pounds of debt and builds a new main stand, choose Alec McLeish, choose Burberry caps, skiddy pants and shell-suits, choose having a squint mohawk, choose thinking that ?Sunshine on Leith? is not dreadful, choose hero worshipping Ivan "headless chicken"/"run Forest run" Sproule, choose to get relegated the week before your biggest rivals win the Scottish Cup, choose John Robertson scoring 27 goals against you, choose Wayne Foster actually scoring a goal against you and putting you out of the cup into the bargain, choose Blobby Williamson, choose hiring a manager with a monkeys head, choose worshipping and buying a decanter for a manager who only won one match, choose defending your club captain for urinating in a charity shop doorway after a team night out at a strip club, choose thinking that the term ?yam? is even slightly offensive or amusing in any way, shape, or form, choose an inferiority complex, choose Tam McManus, choose buckfast in the morning, choose being the most ungracious losers in Christendom, choose the cow-shed, choose going out of business when Celtic nicked all your players, choose running on to the pitch to celebrate your first derby win in 10 years only to be chased off again by the visiting support, choose living in the shadows of your neighbours for 131 years and forever knowing that YOU WILL ALWAYS BE THE WEE TEAM, choose the Proclaimers, choose John Leslie, choose Hibs. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Craigieboy Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Help with a poem or that ever it is. The one that slags Hibs and it is like Choose Hibs. Heres a line that hould be included: Waking up in the morning and you want tae pump yer maw........ . Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hearts of Vladland Posted June 3, 2008 Author Share Posted June 3, 2008 Choose Hibs Choose Hibs, choose Leith, choose not winning the cup for over 105 years, choose Gareth Evans, choose a disabled fan?s carer running on to the park for a sly kick at Stuart Dougal, choose ?2.99 for 3 litres, choose the smell wafting from the Seafield sewage works over the Links each morning, choose loosing to a bunch of Lithuanian waiters in the Inter Tattie cup, choose entering the Inter tattie cup in the first place, choose Jocky Scott, choose dirty needles, choose not selling out the biggest match in your club's history, choose having the worst derby record in the entire world, choose Amadou Konte, choose making a big deal about being ?the first to wear the green? like it actually matters, choose being one day away from being closed down by your biggest rivals, choose looking like you ran out of peroxide half way through, choose being ?classy? when 96% of your your support is made up of chavs, choose singing songs poking fun at refugees, choose trying to kid people into believing that you?ve always played good football when the truth is that you?ve been absolutely ***** for 30 years, choose the Leith San Giro, choose thinking your players age slower than Peter Pan, choose going on and on and on and incessantly on about a game that occurred before most of you were born, choose the Loch Inn, choose getting humped 5-1 by some Ukranian team whose name nobody can pronounce, choose hiring an open-top bus for a cup final against a diddy team and then proceeding to loose the match, choose loosing 30,000 ?fans? on the way home from said cup final, choose thinking Portobello beach is the Copacabana and Easter Road is the Maracana, choose going 2 goals up after 92 minutes of a New Years day derby match and still not winning, choose your derby rivals having won more derby matches at your (crap) ground than you have, choose to go on and on about once beating Real Madrid in a friendly match, choose running on the park for a sly kick at Andy Goram, choose Salamander Street, choose Derek Riorden, choose going 22 games in a row without beating your biggest rivals, choose making a big deal about a scoreboard that worked for a month, choose Alex Miller, choose incessantly going on about how some shady Russian is going to sell Tynecastle and shut Hearts down only to look on in horror as he invests heavily in the team, writes off millions of pounds of debt and builds a new main stand, choose Alec McLeish, choose Burberry caps, skiddy pants and shell-suits, choose having a squint mohawk, choose thinking that ?Sunshine on Leith? is not dreadful, choose hero worshipping Ivan "headless chicken"/"run Forest run" Sproule, choose to get relegated the week before your biggest rivals win the Scottish Cup, choose John Robertson scoring 27 goals against you, choose Wayne Foster actually scoring a goal against you and putting you out of the cup into the bargain, choose Blobby Williamson, choose hiring a manager with a monkeys head, choose worshipping and buying a decanter for a manager who only won one match, choose defending your club captain for urinating in a charity shop doorway after a team night out at a strip club, choose thinking that the term ?yam? is even slightly offensive or amusing in any way, shape, or form, choose an inferiority complex, choose Tam McManus, choose buckfast in the morning, choose being the most ungracious losers in Christendom, choose the cow-shed, choose going out of business when Celtic nicked all your players, choose running on to the pitch to celebrate your first derby win in 10 years only to be chased off again by the visiting support, choose living in the shadows of your neighbours for 131 years and forever knowing that YOU WILL ALWAYS BE THE WEE TEAM, choose the Proclaimers, choose John Leslie, choose Hibs. Thanks Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Le Chat Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 The original and best. How do I know ? I fecking wrote it. Choose life, choose Leith, choose not winning the cup for over 100 years, choose Gareth Evans, choose a disabled fan’s carer running on to the park for a sly kick at Stuart Dougal, choose hookers down Coburg Street, choose Jimmy Boco, choose the smell wafting from the Seafield sewage works over the Links each morning, choose loosing to a bunch of Lithuanian waiters in the Inter Tattie cup, choose entering the Inter tattie cup in the first place, choose Jocky Scott, choose dirty needles, choose having the worst derby record in the entire world, choose Alan Sneddon, choose making a big deal about being “the first to wear the green” like it actually matters, choose being one day away from being closed down by your biggest rivals, choose being ‘classy’ when half of your support is made up of chavs, choose singing songs about refugees, choose a tenner bag, choose David Fellinger, choose David Duff and Jim Gray, choose trying to kid people into believing that you’ve always played good football when the truth is that you’ve been absolutely ***** for 30 years, choose going on and on and on about a game that occurred before most of you were even born, choose the Loch Inn, choose Edward Hurtado, choose getting humped 5-1 by some Ukranian team whose name nobody can pronounce, choose hiring an open-top bus for a cup final against a diddy team and then proceeding to loose the match, choose loosing 30,000 ‘fans’ on the way home from said cup final, choose Benny Brazil, choose your derby rivals having won more derby matches at your ground than you have, choose to go on and on and on about once beating Real Madrid in a friendly match, choose Steve Cowan, choose running on the park for a sly kick at Andy Goram, choose Salamander Street, choose John Burridge, choose going 22 games in a row without beating your biggest rivals, choose making a big deal about a scoreboard that worked for a month, choose Alex Miller, choose incessantly going on about how some shady Russian is going to sell Tynecastle and shut Hearts down only to look on in horror as he invests heavily in the team, writes millions of pounds of debt off and builds a new main stand, choose Joe Tortolano, choose Burberry caps, skiddy pants and shell-suits, choose flairdoo’s instead of hairdoo’s, choose thinking that ‘Sunshine on Leith’ is not dreadful, choose running on the park for a sly kick at John Robertson, choose John Robertson scoring 27 goals against you, choose Wayne Foster actually scoring a goal against you and putting you out of the cup into the bargain, choose Bobby Williamson, choose hiring a manager with a monkey head, choose worshipping and buying a decanter for a manager who only won one match, choose defending your club captain for urinating in a charity shop doorway after a team night out watching strippers, choose thinking that the term ‘yam’ is even slightly amusing in any way shape or form, choose Mickey Weir, choose Pirniefield in the morning, choose being the most ungracious losers this side of Christendom, choose the cow-shed, choose going out of business when Celtic nicked all your players, choose running on to the pitch to celebrate your first derby win in 10 years only to be chased off again by the visiting support, choose living in the shadows of your neighbours for 131 years and forever knowing that you will always be the wee team, choose the Proclaimers, choose John Leslie, choose Hibs. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pants Shaton Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 The original and best. How do I know ? I fecking wrote it. ...and for that, Sir, we salute you. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Maroon Mayhem Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 The original and best. How do I know ? I fecking wrote it. Choose life, choose Leith, choose not winning the cup for over 100 years, choose Gareth Evans, choose a disabled fan?s carer running on to the park for a sly kick at Stuart Dougal, choose hookers down Coburg Street, choose Jimmy Boco, choose the smell wafting from the Seafield sewage works over the Links each morning, choose loosing to a bunch of Lithuanian waiters in the Inter Tattie cup, choose entering the Inter tattie cup in the first place, choose Jocky Scott, choose dirty needles, choose having the worst derby record in the entire world, choose Alan Sneddon, choose making a big deal about being ?the first to wear the green? like it actually matters, choose being one day away from being closed down by your biggest rivals, choose being ?classy? when half of your support is made up of chavs, choose singing songs about refugees, choose a tenner bag, choose David Fellinger, choose David Duff and Jim Gray, choose trying to kid people into believing that you?ve always played good football when the truth is that you?ve been absolutely ***** for 30 years, choose going on and on and on about a game that occurred before most of you were even born, choose the Loch Inn, choose Edward Hurtado, choose getting humped 5-1 by some Ukranian team whose name nobody can pronounce, choose hiring an open-top bus for a cup final against a diddy team and then proceeding to loose the match, choose loosing 30,000 ?fans? on the way home from said cup final, choose Benny Brazil, choose your derby rivals having won more derby matches at your ground than you have, choose to go on and on and on about once beating Real Madrid in a friendly match, choose Steve Cowan, choose running on the park for a sly kick at Andy Goram, choose Salamander Street, choose John Burridge, choose going 22 games in a row without beating your biggest rivals, choose making a big deal about a scoreboard that worked for a month, choose Alex Miller, choose incessantly going on about how some shady Russian is going to sell Tynecastle and shut Hearts down only to look on in horror as he invests heavily in the team, writes millions of pounds of debt off and builds a new main stand, choose Joe Tortolano, choose Burberry caps, skiddy pants and shell-suits, choose flairdoo?s instead of hairdoo?s, choose thinking that ?Sunshine on Leith? is not dreadful, choose running on the park for a sly kick at John Robertson, choose John Robertson scoring 27 goals against you, choose Wayne Foster actually scoring a goal against you and putting you out of the cup into the bargain, choose Bobby Williamson, choose hiring a manager with a monkey head, choose worshipping and buying a decanter for a manager who only won one match, choose defending your club captain for urinating in a charity shop doorway after a team night out watching strippers, choose thinking that the term ?yam? is even slightly amusing in any way shape or form, choose Mickey Weir, choose Pirniefield in the morning, choose being the most ungracious losers this side of Christendom, choose the cow-shed, choose going out of business when Celtic nicked all your players, choose running on to the pitch to celebrate your first derby win in 10 years only to be chased off again by the visiting support, choose living in the shadows of your neighbours for 131 years and forever knowing that you will always be the wee team, choose the Proclaimers, choose John Leslie, choose Hibs. Good San! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rudolf's Mate Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Mr B........ You have way too much time on ur hands!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Le Chat Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Mr B........ You have way too much time on ur hands!!! What can I say, I was bored at work Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rudolf's Mate Posted June 3, 2008 Share Posted June 3, 2008 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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