Mobbenfuhrer
12 Sep 2003, 11:59
Here it begins.
Well, continues, actually. It began back when grasshoppers had tall knees, or something to that effect. Chopper likes it, thus paints he. Coppers love it, they paint a less than pretty picture of me. Shoppers adore it, hence their spree.
Glory be unto thy Reds. Glory be.
Glory be unto those who carry the crimson pennant into battle tomorrow at the old Waverley ground. Ground into the ground will be the lost and found that are the Pirates, that is what I expound. Could that one day be the Euro?
Death to the Pirates. May they all contract pleuro. Yo ho ho and a bottle of scum.
We've got bottle.
We'll turn up the throttle.
What we lack cannot hurt them,
but by God what we've got'll.
God. Interesting that he always turns up in Reds news. Its an alias. Roys = God. It's an anagram : oyrs ... sryo ... well, its in there somewhere.
PENINSULA PIRATES
=
A PERENNIAL TIPS US
or
I SPURN A PALESTINE!
PENINSULA OB
=
BE A LIONS PUN
UP NO LESBIAN
LEBANON IS UP (seems to be a theme, here)
But I crossdress.
Forthwith, bring me the blood of a Pirate. Fight the good fight. All falls before us. All spoils befall us.
I will line up with the boring noughties on this esteemed Saturday, this day, this day of dreams, screams and Pirate butt reams. Peninsula will be subjected to Star Trek existence. Life, Jim, but not as you know it.
Ooh what an empire, lets overthrow it.
Ooh-ahh premiers. Ooh-ahh premiers.
Ooh-ahh premiers. Ooh-ahh premiers.
Arouse me, Redders. Titilate me. Sate me. Gratiate me. Inflate me.
Inflate my TSA. Take the Butt Pirates, and rupture their structural integrity. Imagine how'll they'll feel waking up in the morning with you hanging out of them. Refuse breakfast.
Stand on the many heads of their fan. Only you know that you can. You are the man. Plan?
At Waverley Park tomorrow, there will be carnage. Never in the hunt, the Pirates will become displaced, effaced, erased.
Taste it. Flesh of the Peninsula ... no garlic required.
Because there is already a sweetness about the prospect of that feast.
In true Living Dead style, arrive for the slaughter and the ho-down that shall ensue. Braaaaaaaaains (sic). Just a taste. T-taste it.
It's will be a long road back to Dandy-by-the-sea tonight.
Onward to victory. CAR'N REDDERS!!!!!!
Well, continues, actually. It began back when grasshoppers had tall knees, or something to that effect. Chopper likes it, thus paints he. Coppers love it, they paint a less than pretty picture of me. Shoppers adore it, hence their spree.
Glory be unto thy Reds. Glory be.
Glory be unto those who carry the crimson pennant into battle tomorrow at the old Waverley ground. Ground into the ground will be the lost and found that are the Pirates, that is what I expound. Could that one day be the Euro?
Death to the Pirates. May they all contract pleuro. Yo ho ho and a bottle of scum.
We've got bottle.
We'll turn up the throttle.
What we lack cannot hurt them,
but by God what we've got'll.
God. Interesting that he always turns up in Reds news. Its an alias. Roys = God. It's an anagram : oyrs ... sryo ... well, its in there somewhere.
PENINSULA PIRATES
=
A PERENNIAL TIPS US
or
I SPURN A PALESTINE!
PENINSULA OB
=
BE A LIONS PUN
UP NO LESBIAN
LEBANON IS UP (seems to be a theme, here)
But I crossdress.
Forthwith, bring me the blood of a Pirate. Fight the good fight. All falls before us. All spoils befall us.
I will line up with the boring noughties on this esteemed Saturday, this day, this day of dreams, screams and Pirate butt reams. Peninsula will be subjected to Star Trek existence. Life, Jim, but not as you know it.
Ooh what an empire, lets overthrow it.
Ooh-ahh premiers. Ooh-ahh premiers.
Ooh-ahh premiers. Ooh-ahh premiers.
Arouse me, Redders. Titilate me. Sate me. Gratiate me. Inflate me.
Inflate my TSA. Take the Butt Pirates, and rupture their structural integrity. Imagine how'll they'll feel waking up in the morning with you hanging out of them. Refuse breakfast.
Stand on the many heads of their fan. Only you know that you can. You are the man. Plan?
At Waverley Park tomorrow, there will be carnage. Never in the hunt, the Pirates will become displaced, effaced, erased.
Taste it. Flesh of the Peninsula ... no garlic required.
Because there is already a sweetness about the prospect of that feast.
In true Living Dead style, arrive for the slaughter and the ho-down that shall ensue. Braaaaaaaaains (sic). Just a taste. T-taste it.
It's will be a long road back to Dandy-by-the-sea tonight.
Onward to victory. CAR'N REDDERS!!!!!!