A Terrace Called Leppings Lane
¶ 1
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Check the tickets in my wallet,
Then swig my cup of tea,
7.30 in the morning,
One game from Wembley.
¶ 2
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Out the door and on the street,
Off to meet the boys,
To sing the songs we love to sing,
When we fill the ground with noise.
¶ 3
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The coach pulls up and we all pile on,
Belly full of butterflies,
Then off to Sheffield we all go,
The FA Cup our prize.
¶ 4
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9.00am and the songs have started,
I talk about the game,
To a young lad that’s sat next to me,
I didn’t catch his name.
¶ 5
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The journeys taking hours,
And we cross the Pennine hills,
But my mind drifts off to Hillsborough,
As I dream of Beardsley’s skills.
¶ 6
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“My favourite players Aldo”
Says the boy sat next to me,
His eyes full of excitement,
And his words are filled with glee.
¶ 7
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“I’m meeting me mate when I get to the ground”
“He’s travelling up by train”
“I’ll see you back here on the coach”
“When we’ve beaten Forest again”.
¶ 8
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The coach pulled up and off he went,
Going to meet his friend,
I check my ticket once again,
‘THE LEPPINGS LANE END’.
¶ 9
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It’s getting near to kick off,
And I’m getting close to the ground,
But nobody seems to be moving,
And I’m stuck tight in this crowd.
¶ 10
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I’m just about starting to panic,
Then a bizzie opens a gate,
A red tide moves down a tunnel,
Moving closer to their fate.
¶ 11
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I remember clearly that tunnel,
And the light that shone at the end,
And as I think back to that fateful day,
I still can’t comprehend.
¶ 12
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That the coppers called us vandals,
And drunken loutish liars,
And the media fed us spite and hate,
When compassion was required.
¶ 13
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But back to that day and the things I saw,
Unfold before my eyes,
The sight of grown men screaming
As the air was filled with cries.
¶ 14
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But I was one of the lucky ones,
Because I came back alive,
I watched heroes in scarves down on the pitch,
Trying helplessly to revive –
Their friends their family and strangers,
Who’d all come to watch a game,
But their lives were crushed that fateful day,
On a terrace called Leppings Lane.
¶ 15
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The memories still haunt me,
Every time I go to sleep,
But there is one memory that gets me,
And always makes me weep.
¶ 16
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Back on the coach with my head on the glass,
I remember my heart skipped a beat,
When I turned to the young lad next to me,
And I noticed his empty seat.
¶ 17
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There were 96 empty seats that day,
96 friends that we’ve lost,
And while Kelvin counted his pennies,
The families counted the cost.
¶ 18
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So next time you are at Anfield,
Visit the eternal flame,
Feel the stone cold marble,
And touch a person’s name.
¶ 19
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And whilst you say a silent prayer,
And your dreams are tossed and blown,
Remember those 96 empty seats,
That must never walk alone.
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