In every hick town in Caledonia Across this pseudo nation You can see the most fucked up scum that was shat into creation Where a blue McKewan's lager top equals no imagination You're hunbelievable You're hunbelievable What do they do with all the confiscated bevy, The polis? Buckets and bags of it? Give it to the jakies? Nah. Drink it themselves? Mibbe. Give it back to the retailers so they can sell it all back to us over again The cunts [echo] You're hunbelievable You're hunbelievable The mystery of Scottish sport Is why we hate the English so. I love the English very much As long as they don't fuckin beat us in the European nations cup You're hunbelievable You're hunbelievable Sitting outside Wembley in '79, Jock punks in London, massive carry out Talking to a guy in an ice cream van So drunk for weeks and we're goin Way past the point of wantin tickets. It would be horrendous now if someone was to hand you a fuckin ticket You'd have to leave all the bevy outside the grounds by the polis dump bins No fuckin way! Ten minutes into the fuckin game We'd be climbing up the walls to get out. Fuckin hell. Remember the banner "Alcoholism beats communism" Well it beats the fuck out of football as well. Think you're a success Your psyche's a mess Your economy is in distress Sittin and waiting for the inevitable shot out that never comes Sittin and waiting for the inevitable shot out that never fuckin comes