Orville the Earwig's big day ©
This sort of wrote itself.
Dalton in Furness, England
In Bugzville there's a popular sport,
it's played by many teams.
To score for Pincers Athletic,
was the stuff of Orville's dreams.
A naturally gifted player was he,
perhaps a future Skipper.
Folk marvelled at his ball control,
ever since he was a nipper!
The talent scout had signed him up,
despite his youthful stench.
And the weeks that flew by, brought a tear to his eye,
continually left on the bench.
On the back of each player's Jersey,
their name was embroidered, although,
it has to be said, they had run out of thread,
so poor Orville had only an "O".
(Everybody say "Ahhhhhhh")
At the local Cup final,
he took his big chance.
He led Mothchester United's,
defense, a merry dance.
The crowd were enraptured,
their devotion he had captured.
Though it wasn't quite the same,
when the fans don't know your name.
As the man of the match left the pitch,
wouldn't you know?
You could hear them all sing,
"Earwig O, Earwig O!
Earwig O, Earwig O, Earwig O, Earwig O, O!"