Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in claret haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of Kippax blue
Now, I understand, what Sean Dyche tried to say to me
How he suffered for his penury
How he tried to get Calvert Lewin for free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
For they could not love Sean
But still his gargled words were true
And when no hope was left inside
In that rasping relegation fight
He took his payoff, as sacked bosses always do
Yet Sean could have told you, Vincent
That club was never meant for one
As clearly audible as you