I returned up north of the border,
to end up my football career
then like many a player of that era,
I became a publican serving up beer.
Nows many a night up in Scotland,
when the door of the pub I will close
I’ll feel a wee sentimental,
And I’ll keep in the punters I know
I’ll pour me a wee glass of whiskey
and let my mind go a wandering back
and I’ll reminisce to the after- hours customers
about my days in the Palace attack.
I’ll tell of my goals v United,
and how I was signed as a youth from East Fife,
and the discos and clubs of South London,
where I had the best times of my life.
And while I feel a wee tear on my cheekbone
as my mind wanders back forty years,
I’ll wish I was back in South London,
not in Lanarkshire serving up beers.