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Thirty odd years of chasing a dream
To play like my Red heroes, out there on the field
Skived off from school the lessons meant nothing
Not compared to Dalglish and the magic he conjured
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Players were Kings with a smile on their faces
The Kopites squashed up just like sardines in cases
“Come ‘ed den Smithy Get stuck in der Thommo!”
We’d be screamin’ and shoutin’, wake up hoarse tomorrow!
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Days in the rain soaked through to the skin
But me Liverpool blood warmed with a Liverpool win
The precious Red shirts that I’ve worn to a thread
Will make a fine shroud when I take my last breath.