We last met in September,
When trees were not yet bare.
Three times we made their Keeper stoop,
(And Johnson bagged a pair!)
The Reds were none too happy,
You should’ve seen ‘em glare.
Well, now they’re thirsting for Revenge,
Beware, my Lads, beware.
Much water’s flowed beneath the bridge,
Since that win oh so rare.
We’re hoping to repeat the Feat –
To catch’em unawares.
But let’s not be complacent,
Let’s tread with utmost care.
The Reds are lusting for Revenge,
Beware, my Boys, beware.
We’ll soon be off to Anfield,
Deep into the Wolf’s Lair.
We know they’ll take the game to us,
They won’t just stand and stare.
They’re out to get their own back,
By foul means or by fair.
The Reds are hell-bent on Revenge,
Beware! Beware!! Beware!!!
Denys E. W. Jones