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Shankly’s spirit roams the turf of our Anfield home
Bringing past glories and visions of dreams alive
Fields of dreams we seek to find our domination
Sailing across the red Mersey down Breck Road on a breeze.
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Whispers in the morning of the evening game we’ve witnessed
The cheering crowd is all we hear from twenty miles around
And upon the red Mersey they talk of great things seen below a full moon
Shanks has returned the victorious days are here with us where they do belong.
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And as the wind blows northwards across our sacred home
The spirit of Shankly passes through leaving the luck we desire
So now the memories are all we have in managers and players gone by
But upon the red Mersey we can still hear the joyful cries.