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They’re gettin’ tipsy in Toxteth, and down the Scotland Road.
They’re goin’ crazy in Croxteth, they’re in a festive mood.
And all along the Mersey, you’ll hear a new song sung,
By kids dressed in blue jerseys – it’s “Europe, here we come!”
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We’re feeling so ecstatic, that we could kiss the sky.
We’re all in love with Moysey, we’ll bear him shoulder high.
Yes, we adore you David, you’re our adopted son.
‘Cos largely thanks to you, mate, it’s “Europe, here we come!”
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Dig out your dusty passport, check the expiry date.
Make sure the thing’s still valid, or else you might be late.
‘Cos when next Season kicks off, we’re gonna have some fun.
We’ll be on tour in Europe. Yes, Europe, here we come!
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Now tears of joy we’re weeping, we’ve waited oh so long.
And our proud hearts are leaping, we’re back where we belong.
We’re cocking snooks at Anfield, and t’wards Old Trafford too.
There’s just one team in Europe – The Toffeemen in Blue.
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There’s no champagne corks poppin’ – we can’t afford that stuff.
We’ll nip down to the offy, lay in some ale to sup.
We’ll have ourselves a party, and all end up dead drunk.
But that won’t stop us singin’ “Europe, here we come!”
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They said with no Wayne Rooney we didn’t stand a chance.
But we just rolled our sleeves up, without a backward glance.
We didn’t take the Title, but don’t you worry, wack.
‘Cos we’ll be back next Season, to have another crack.
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Meanwhile they’re tanked up in Toxteth, the toast is to Our Team.
It’s Christmastime in Croxteth, (at least that’s how it seems).
And our red-shirted rivals? Looks like they’ve been struck dumb.
They can’t believe we’re singin’ “Europe, here we come!”