Don't know if Giggs or not;
The Mackems are coming,bolt all your doors
Hide all your jewellery under the floor
Zip up your pockets, keep everything tight
From a busload of thieves from the Stadium of Shite
They'll climb in your garden and rifle your bins
They live on Pot Noodles and leftover things
They'll break through a window and steal all your goods
Then back to the camp in Pennywell woods
Shellsuits are fashion down 5under1and way
Brighthouse your saviour with 5 years to pay
You wash in the Wear and struggle to cope
You don't understand the reason for soap
Your women are grannies when they reach twenty-nine
Your dream holiday is a day on the Tyne
You look in the mirror and think 'what a mess'
And sleep with your brother in his matalan dress.