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.   Fuc-kin 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.