Shanks
¶ 1
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Before a show of red strength worthy of Mao
Crowned Champions on a day of high emotion
He swaggers across the pitch Cagney-style
To be with his beloved Kop, a mutual devotion
Smart grey suit, trimmed with an old silk scarf
That to him represented the life of a Kopite
Arms outstretched, a messiah and his followers
By any measure, a truly remarkable sight
His hands brought together as if in prayer
No semblance of a smile on his stern face
And then the sound of Shankly’s hymn
To that haunting tune of Amazing Grace
The trophy held aloft, his players all around
For him, they would give their last breath
He was made for Liverpool and Liverpool for him
Where a game is more important than life or death
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