Born a Red
¶ 1
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In the stillness of memory
The echoes of glory
What moments we cherish
What pleasures we’ve sewn
And the soul of such sweetness
Has borne us, and freely
The finest have served us
The best swords of Rome
The spirit was generous
And fed us with plenty
As guests at the banquet
Champions all known
But the true gifts of greatness
Is always humility
Anfield forever
Where none walk alone.
¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 (c) tobyjones 2nd january 2004
17
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