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Once it was military bands, Sousa marches over the
Tannoy – Happy Wanderer, of course. How quaint,
How redolent of a time long gone. Even in the ’70s,
So the kids on the North Bank made up their own
Lyrics to chart hits. Raucous, humourous, obscene.
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Celebrated serenades to the players they idolised, the
Stars, the sloggers. A brand new world of pop and
Celebrity, TV showcased the kids, the fans, and their
Songs – chanting, singing, pushing, shoving. They got
Satisfaction on a Saturday – as the good times rolled on.
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Clubs at night, moving to the latest sounds. Music and
Footy became intwined. Hot and sweaty, Northern
Soul, the Motown beat. Young moves, fashion rules.
And it filtered down the terrace steps on match days,
Sounds alive, sounds from the heart. Sounds to feel.
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And it was fun, as we belted out those anthems in
Unison at home and away. Our tunes, our words –
Ending up nicked by the Opposition to suit their own
Kind. But still we sang out, loud and proud. Stamped
Our feet, clapped our hands. Loo rolls cascaded down.