(Pat Boone would turn in his grave if ever he died)

 

You’d better go home Jose Mourinho

Or get a couple of wins

You’re running out of your excuses

Which were looking pretty thin;

You’re not so Special now Mourinho

You’re feeling sorry for yourself

You’ll get no sympathy from Roman

He’ll just replace you from his wealth.

 

Jose Mourinho

Your team lost at Stoke

To Liverpool and Southampton

You’ve become a football joke.

 

You need to sort out your star players

Your dressing room is in revolt

I’d start with that John Terry

Who seems to think its all your fault.

The criticism that you’re taking

You dismiss as just a slur

But you know you’re not so Special

As you used to think you were.

 

Jose Mourinho

You lost to West Ham

Now you’ve even lost to Bournemouth

Pretty soon you’ll lose your fans.

 

“The referees are all cheating.

It’s a fix.” You’ve implied;

“We had a penalty for certain

And their goals were offside.”

We thought we’d heard the last of Fergie

The whines and moans he produced

But you have taken up his mantle

As The King of the Excuse.

 

Jose Mourinho

Self-styled Special One

The bookies are taking

Bets on when you’ll be gone