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A gunmetal sky was prevalent above the Fulham Road
Our hopes seemed slim, irrelevant but as fans you have to go.
With some Football Combination boys and South East Counties stock
We turned up to make a load of noise and hopefully spring a shock.
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Like lambs being led to slaughter, a young team sure to lose
The Shed was packed wall to wall, with optimistic Blues
It’s Liverpool Champions of Europe we surely can’t win the game
There was scant room in our stadium for ye of little faith.
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I remember drooling in the stands as them Scousers took the field
There was Lawro, Dalglish, Hansen, Joey Jones and Thompson. Phil.
They’d bought a massive following which as champions you’d expect
Our team would offer but token resistance, and bundles of respect.
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With damage limitation our number one concern
Fear turned to sheer elation when Joey Jones got burned.
We were on a roll and a second goal seemed like it would come
When Jock Finnieston got in and had a go, grey skies let in the sun.
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Joey Jones’s nightmare seemed some what complete
When he mared a suicidal back pass to Tommy Langley’s feet
Who chipped it over the advancing Clemence, in to an empty net
As Crazy Horse went ballistic, a scary sight I’ll not forget.
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When Clive Walker scored his second, we were home and dry
Shellito’s team had won the day, we were shell-shocked with surprise
Jones never played for Liverpool again, was Walker the sole reason?
Who cares. We won the game and were relegated that next season.
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Ecstasy rocked the jam packed streets, our corner had been turned
Bob Paisley and his team of greats, had got it’s fingers burned
There’s nothing like an upset in The FA Cup to raise morale
But this highlight of that season in 1978, turned out to be shallow.
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In those days we’d so many managers, we change them every week
Our stadium had almost skint us, we had rows of empty seats
As our season turned to mediocrity and excuses kinda of lame
I fondly recall a sliver of hope, I felt from this one game!