作词 : Richard Dawson
 作曲 : Richard Dawson
Bellowing instructions from the touchline, that's my dad,
Purple in the face, getting really mad
Man on! Man on!
An empty stadium yells 'man on'
Come on! Come on!
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone
"Stop fannying around!
Keep it nice and simple
You're not Lionel Messi,
just pass the bloody ball!"
Perhaps we were expecting
this to be a walk in the park
but these bastards from King's Priory
are kicking lumps out of us
Their left back slips taking a freekick
It trickles over the mud straight to me
In desperation he scrambles and slides
I leap his flailing leg and dink it over the sprawled body of the goalie
The net is gaping
The ball takes a bobble and I slice wide
of the mark... everything goes quiet,
staring into the red dark of my palms
They launch a long ball into our box
Suddenly we find ourselves with a corner to defend
I am on the near-post
Somehow it gets bundled underneath my feet
At the final whistle I am inconsolable
Man on, man on
I reckon dad is really disappointed with me
Come on, come on
He tries his best to not show how he really feels
In the car home he says, “Dust yourself down, move on to next week's game
Shall we pick up a Chinese? Or would you rather fish and chips?”