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       THE MERCHANT BANKER!
Yes the time draws near! The first release of the novel from the pens or Lroy, Markus and The Catt should be ready (fat bloody chance) for Spring 2003!
 
for more information or to place your order, click here www.themerchant.50megs.com
just email one of them using one of the addresses at the top of the merchant site.

 
 
www,osbm2002.50megs.com

Any poems or songs written about USBOB or by an USBOB player can be published here. If you have a peice you would like to be submitted, email it to marky_1987@hotmail.com

Hello my friends, my name is Markus. I'm not currently a famous poet or songwriter but hell...weirder things have happened! Anyway poetry is an art and artists (me) can not be rushed, because getting words to rhyme is much harder than it seems. So eventually there will be some really good literature on this page be I wouldn't count on it being before Christmas.

When knee-caps screw and turn to blue,
They choose to fix them with some glue,
Very painful a bandage did suck,
Many a tear pour from thy duct.

But where is Bill I hear you ask,
In the back completing a task,
Where frogs make leaps of gold and coin,
And jump around going boing, boing.

Wont you stay for coffee and cake,
After I so long did sit and bake,
How ungrateful can one be,
Very is just like fossil fuels.

Coal, oil, biscuit and pear,
L-roy dresses like a bear,
Walks around with mighty an arm,
But still is grey with fire alarm.

The end of back where udder does sit,
Milky Way, Stars of Milky Way bit,
L-Roy does stand and eat and chew,
Not leaving any for front Matthew.

Who believes in Santa and Frank,
Me and ones of higher rank,
Is there a chance the track could bend?
Not here as this is the end.
                                         
Matt the Cat

 

USBOB FOREVER

The game is near and USBOB have the match in their grasps,
From around the pitch there are shouts of "Lroys a Fud" and "Rabs got Crabs",
The team are ready to do their worst, but it's always a bugger when the baw is burst!

The replacement arrives, the game starts 40mins behind. What?? a change of positions??
F*ckin' make up yer mind!!

At last we kick-off, and we're playin pretty shite,
We keep level-headed, where other teams fight!

From the half-way line, the baw is beltit,
Lroys in goals, with 15 jumpers, he must be meltit!
With all his paddin and skill n jibes, it's damn certain he'll make the dives!

USBOB aint exactly the best, although most have past puberty and have hairs on their chest,
Then, of course there's Donald and Gill, with facial hair where roughly 6 million bird-nests could fill,
Like so many times before, the end is nigh, and USBOB ain't exactly been on a high,
We try n claim penalties...well it's worth a try!

We've tried our best as was expected from the start,
The best way to extract wind is a jolly big fart.
Flatulence issues can be a real drag,
I seen Bossman blow-off...it caused me to gag!

I know there's more players I could have used in this verse,
But I'm lazy and never bothered ma erse!

So it's farewell from the team...USBOB and I,
My poetry ain't great, so I'll f*ck off...Goodbye!!

                                                        Shaun Cumming

To the YMCA theme

USBOB!!
is the name of the team!

I said USBOB!!
We are daft and obscene!!

We play FOOTBALL!!
Till it's time for our beds!

We r Fun...and hate Neds!

US---B---O----B
                          Shaun Cumming

 

Nothing

 

Where does Gareth fall off cliff,

And Halloween bring out a fifth,

When out of disguise a rabbit does come,

And tries to fly instead of run.

 

But even goats, giraffes, and seals,

Cant exist without meals on wheels,

And Gillies says: I am but cold,

In two weeks hell contract a cold.

 

Lroy bakes and makes and rakes,

And hoes and digs and makes and rakes,

In the garden the sun doth bellow,

Sense makes none like a French fellow.

 

Set the table with knife and fork,

And lick the plate clean of pork,

Eat up, drink up, gallop and run,

Were eating pork, not hot cross bun.

 

The end get closer and nearer not farrer,

When you read this you will fly a harrier,

Everyone always wants to walk,

And never flys enough to talk.

                                               Matt the Cat

Moderated by Marcus