Doom Doom the Shay/Death of A Club
¶ 1
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no cinema no sport -or soon enough there never will
no purpose no hope
misled by crooks and imbeciles
self-adorned as kings and popes
¶ 2
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When a field of eyes like pennine sky
are heavy leaden grey
I’ll be in the tombland between the trees
we’ll band together, in legendary sentiment, down at the Shay
¶ 3
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There on the concrete hillside
the faithful few clad in blue and white
stir the winter crowd to fever pitch
in a damp-cold shiver serene
This is the last escape within a town
possessed by greed and hate and all evils between
¶ 4
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so bring flood, plague and fire
mercifully please, let Halifax go the way of Ninevah and Tyre
or bring back the proper football
and bring back the proper fans
who’ll not pry our coins with beggar pleas
or stall query with ever imminent plans
¶ 5
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So long has misfortune been the way
for the faithful few, who hang in doom
down at the tombland, down at the Shay
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