The Echo Of The Terrace
¶ 1
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Through banners flying o’er each head
The songs cried true and bold
God’s Angels played in shirts of Red
With boots of shining gold
¶ 2
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I stood upon that hallowed place
And sang the battle songs
The Spion Sons of Shankly’s days
Were 50,000 strong
¶ 3
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For Ian St John picked up the ball
Sir Roger raced upfield
Amd Tommy held the line with strength
And packed his boots with steel
¶ 4
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A million memories passed between
A million more to be
But none that claimed Anfield Crown
Could mean as much as he
¶ 5
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Whose emerald shirt once idolised
A son come down from heaven
To make his home on Merseyside
Pull on the Anfield number 7
¶ 6
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A girl whose blood and very bones
Were forged from fires as these
Would give the world, and all she owned
To see return the King
¶ 7
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My Father stood amidst the crowd
No words were passed or said
But the echo of the terrace knew
And soothed my heart instead.
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