Fathers Mothers sons and daughters
Blood on blood forever bound
Stand on the kop and sing the legends
Who play upon this hallowed ground
Oh miracles such golden deeds
Much more than this we ask?
What precious gold can others give?
What more could come to pass?
Through winter’s seasons on and on
Stand we in robes of red
The stars pinned to their dome of night
Are fixed above each head
In little streams each river flows
As silver salmon fly
The scent of summer beads the air
Slips down from clouds on high
A child would dream a million dreams
Tramp pavements wet with tears
Watch fragile suns through shadows rise
And still all roads lead here
Upon the hopes that pound the shore
In search, in search of home
The webs of sadness fall as dust
Condemned to silence, as a stone
Oh heroes here and stories told
The themes are still the same
Pass and move the Gospels preach
Borne from the Liverpool Way.