We begin our sad tale when Terry was young
When Enid Blyton proved lots of fun
But his vision dimmed his adventurous nights
He'd read the Secret Seven under artificial lights
Oh dear what's with Terry
Oh dear it's not right
The local girls are not so pretty
But they are if you see 'em through Terry's sight
Then came the day Terry always did dread
Christmas had come, a present lay on his bed
A Johnny 7 or a cuddly toy?
No! horn-rimmed glasses fit for a boy!
Oh dear what's ...
Wearing glasses never became the craze
So the years they passed in a hazy daze
Even at matches he'd shout and roar
Pretend he'd seen another George Best goal
Being Joe 90 he's proved a success
But he's no Clark Gable nevertheless
They found the answer to this classic case
It wasn't the glasses --- it's his horrible face!
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