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Portsmouth’s old High Street in Eighteen Ninety-Eight
Legacies were made in these pledging of deeds,
A field of potatoes to this place of dreams.
Years of victories from this April 5th date.
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Up for the cup and championships run through,
Promotions, relegations all that’s between.
Poverty then prospering this island’s seam,
One city one club in the pink then the blue.
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More trophies than most, (such as those down the road),
Players may change and the stadium reveal,
Each summer’s new paint until surfaces gleam;
Yet much is unchanged that mere time can’t corrode.
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Put on your colours and then head to the ground,
One road to the next as rivers to the sea.
Memories in chatter all ages one theme,
Passionate and proud, to this we are all bound.
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Each line joins another, towards Fratton Park,
Young and old in our faith, this one crowd to be,
Pass through the turnstiles and then upstairs we stream,
Launching into song with the whistle the spark.
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And out on this pitch under floodlights’ bright beam
You’ll know by our roar why we’re held in esteem,
Underdogs, favourites we’ll shout, and we’ll scream,
Portsmouth one heartbeat, one city and one team.