Your other poem was better
In L4 there's a footy club for sale.
Bottom 3 material...destined to fail.
With a wooden ground, load of shit.
Currently building a smelly sand pit.
They've got no money, fuckin broke.
Nothing more than a running joke.
In their shadow looms mighty LFC.
And their fans are as nutty as can be!
When they finally move to the dock.
No trophies to go just a cuckoo clock!
So come on buyers...give Bill a call.
And get your name on Bullens Rd wall.