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I grew up in Liverpool down by the Kop,
A stones throw away, could get there in a hop!
Me bro told me mother he don’t believe in God,
Said he lives for are the Reds, all else can go sod!
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Me brother is a mad one, the Reds are his church,
Me mother went sick, as for the bucket she’d lurch!
‘I pray for you every night!’ My mum said to bro’
‘Cos if I don’t, it’ to hell you’ll go!’
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‘Don’t send me to Heaven!’ He roared to our mum!
Cos I’ll be all alone, cos me mate’s just wont come!
We wana go to hell, and live for the game!
Liverpudlian scousers, they go by that name!
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Well me mother went nuts, and knelt down to pray!
Asking God for forgiveness for me brother that day!
But me brother don’t care! His life, it has to be said!
Is to live and breathe the Reds, until he drops dead!
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So he’s off to Istanbul, with me cousin, who’s mad too!
Oh woe is me mother, her face is turning blue!
But that word is banned from my brother’s ears!
We say it at our peril, we live with the fears!!!
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He said he’d kill us, and said to the God he don’t believe in!
Yo! The Reds better live forever, and forever they’ll win!
So now it’s the countdown, fever is nigh and will get worse,
So I think I better stop now, am running outa verse!