Oooooooh deary me.
Our David Bentley's playing as if he's on weed.
We tell him to play football 'cause it's nearly five to three.
He never makes an impact at THFC.

We ask him very nicely if he'd like to go and flee.
We all know the answer 'cause his future's so hazyyy.
Don't understand how one can dip in form quickly.
Our little David Bentley, how we wish that you could see.

We only say it 'cause we care.
And please can you stop touching your hair.
Now now there's no need to swear.
Please don't storm off, our midfielder.

Ooooh Bentley get up. It's a brand new game.
We just don't want you to waste your Spurs career away.
You need to make more impact on the games that you may play.
Get in the matches more and also use your brain.

Surely there's some grass out there where you can go and train.
Blackburn is guilty there for leading you astray.
But how the hell do you ever expect to get some praise
When all you do is walk around the pitch at every game?

We only say it 'cause we care.
And please can you stop touching your hair.
Now now there's no need to swear.
Please don't storm off, our midfielder.

(Interlude)

Oooh little Bentley who d'you think you're swearing at?
'Cause just like Bent, you're acting like a primadonna twat.
It's time that you and Martin O'Neill had a little chat
And went to Villa where your form will magically come back.

We only say it 'cause we care.
And please can you stop touching your hair.
Now now there's no need to swear.
Please don't storm off,
Please don't storm off,
Midfielder.