When I were nowt more than a lad,
Here’s what me Old Man said:
“All dumb dimwits like us are blue,
While all smart Alecs are red.
They’re always in with a shout.
We fight to ‘scape the Drop.
We always finish way way down the League,
While they come in up near the top.
They sign big names from abroad.
We need to sell to survive.
Frequently they win their matches by four.
We often lose by five.
You’ll find ‘em stood on the Kop.
Us on the Park or the Street.
They often scent the sweet smell of success.
We drain the dregs of Defeat.
They’re always ‘Up for the Cup’.
We get knocked out in Round Three.
They see off Villa, Man U and The Toon.
We’re beat by Shrewsburee …”
Fatha and Mutha both said,
Brutha and Sista too:
“If you’ve one ounce of sense, you’ll be sure to be red.
Only daft beggers like us are blue.”
So I thought long and hard ‘bout their warning.
Sat there rackin’ the brain in me ‘ead.
And I came to conclude I’d be proud to be blue,
And I wouldn’t be seen dead in red!
Denys E. W. Jones