To battle, Liverpool, sweet battle, Liverpool
¶ 1
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a little known man
with a dirty white cow
milked the goat for the
good of his tribe
¶ 2
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for the love of his sword his men
fell down and dead
and the battle they duly did win
¶ 3
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and now lucozade, not goat milk
fills the stomach
of the mighty Red men
¶ 4
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and for the love of Steve G
will his men give their all
till they die in the field of Constantinople
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