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You get more noise from a packet of crisps Than yer do from the Gladwys Street Yer get more noise from a packet of crisps Than yer do from the Gladwys Street Yer get silence here quiet there Not a sound from anywhere Yer get more noise from a packet of crisps Than yer do from the Gladwys Street. Let me tell you the story of a poor boy Who was sent far away from his home To fight for his king and his country And also the old folks back home.

So they put him in a Highland division Sent him off to a far foreign land Where the flies swarm around in their thousands And there's nothing to see but the sands. As he lay on the battle field dying dying dying With the blood gushing out of his head of his head As he lay on the battle field dying dying dying These were the last words he said We support the team that's dressed in red A team that we all know A team that we call Liverpool And to glory we will go.

One two One two three One two three four Five nil! Rush scored one Rush scored two Rush scored three And Rush scored four! To the tune of "Mull of Kintyre". Far have I travelled and much have I seen; The years spent in Europe now number twenty; While all those around us all fade and they tire; You will hear the Kop singing the reds never tire. The reds never tire, you'll hear the Kop singing, You'll play with the fire, that just keeps us winning, the Reds never tire.

Now Everton are finished and Leeds they are dead; Benfica and Gladbach their faces are red; The cockneys are bottom they wont get much higher; But youll hear the Kop singing the Reds never tire. Now back in the sixties there Hunt and St john ; With stevo and rowdie but sadly the're gone; Today we've got Micheal and Robbie on fire And you'll hear the Kop singing the reds never tire. To the tune of Yellow Submarine. To the tune of Amore. When the ball hits the net Its a fairly safe bet that its Fowler Robbie Fowler. Ian Rush, Roger Hunt Who's the best man up front?

As she was going to Goodison Park , It being on derby day, He passed her on his way to the match And pretended he? Ello dear Jill can you help me, I? She flashed her saucy eyes at him, And, oh, but they were Kendall-blue, She answered him quite modestly,? He arched his back against the bar, To save her from the swaying fans, They sang? To the tune of the theme from the Addams Family. Scouser in Gay Paris How would you like to be.

A Scouser in Gay Paris. But we'd won five league trophies before Shanks had come, We had players like Liddell and Scott. We got blessed by a great man of vision Bill Shankly, Bill Shankly. And he led us out the Second Division We thank thee, we thank thee. Then we won every trophy that football has seen 'This Is Anfield' was known throughout the land, We're the boys from the Kop, Liverpool is our team And Houllier's reliving Shankly's dream.

History of the Kop: Poor Scouser Tommy

Everybody in the world heard us singing From our ground, from our ground. Than the players would turn up and wa'd make them laugh Gordon Banks. Franny Lee and Big Jack. Euro Cups in a cardie, trendsetter, He won three, he won three. He was shy, he was quiet but by God he was great And we loved him just like we loved Shanks. For a while we were rolling in clover Watch us go, watch us go. And he won us the double against Everton Wembley sounded like never before. We were shocked, we were stunned, we were shaken When it came, when it came.

All those children of Shanks that were taken, At a gatne, just a game. And we'll never forget them as long as we live They are with us now like they were then. Came a decade that kept us all waiting For a team, for a team. And now Gerard has started creating Our new dream, our new dream. And deep down inside us we all do believe That he'll take us back where we belong. Show them the way to go home They're tired and they want to go to bed for a wank! Cos they're only half a football team Compared to the boys in Red. Side By Side [Oh we aint gorra barrel of money] To the tune of Michael Finnegan.

We've got a right back called Steve Finnan, When he plays we're always winnin', He passes the ball, Out and in again, We've got a right back called Steve Finnan.

To the tune of "99 Red Baloons". To the tune of "Let it Be". We went down to the Bridge we needed a win And King Kenny stuck the ball in the net or and King Kenny came up with a gem It's sixteen, it's beautiful and it's mine. The 12 Days of Christmas The Best Behaved Supporters We're the best behaved supporters in the land when we win We're the best behaved supporters in the land when we win We're the best behaved supporters The best behaved supporters We're the best behaved supporters in the land when we win.

We're a right shower of bastards when we lose We're a right shower of bastards when we lose We're a right shower of bastards A right shower of bastards We're a right shower of bastards when we lose but we don't. Oh the best centre forward's wearing red, He's wearing red, wearing red, wearing red, red, red Oh the best centre forward's wearing red, He's wearing red, wearing red, wearing red, red, red And every time he touches the ball he scores a goal Every time he touches the ball he scores a goal, Every time he touches the ball he scores a goal, He's Terry Mac, Terry Mac, Super Terry Mac.

Oh the worst centre forward's wearing black He's wearing black, wearing black, wearing black, black, black. And every time he opens his mouth he swallows the ball, Every time he opens his mouth he swallows the ball, Every time he opens his mouth he swallows the ball, He's Malcolm Mac, Malcolm Mac, Malcolm Mac, Mac, Mac. Oh me lads we're never off the tele We hate the fucking coppers Cos they murdered Jimmy Kelly United are the bastards City are the runners And when we get to Highbury We'll kick fuck out of the Gunners.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Newcastle Brown it has to be a winner Twenty five pints on a Saturday night And twelve for Sunday dinner We taught the geordies how to sing We taught them how to sup But most of all we taught them How to lift the FA Cup. The bluenose bastards aren't the champions anymore They went to Nottingham Forest and only got a draw The went to Oxford and they couldn't even score The bluenose bastards aren't the champions anymore. I was walking down Lime Street Swinging my chain Along comes a cockney And he asks me my name I kicked him in the balls And I punched him in the head Now that cockney is dead.

The Boys in Red We'll fight and no surrender, We'll fight for the boys in red, We'll fight the fight for Liverpool, The team that Shankly bred. Said Catterick to Vernon you're smoking too much, You're playing like shite and you're losing your touch, I wish now that I'd signed that Ian St. John For he is a footballer second to none. With Hunt alongside him and Cally there too, There isn't much doubt that they're better than you, And with all those boys who sing loud on the Kop Those Redmen are certain to get to the top.

Poor Scouser Tommy

So let us acknowledge the team down the road, Who play all their football by Bill Shankly's code, Although I'm the boss of this Everton team. To play like them Redmen is my biggest dream. So with that old Catterick went home on the bus, There wasn't much point in him making a fuss, Then Vernon jumped into the back of his Jag, Drank some Johnny Red Walker and lit up a fag. So what is the moral of this little tale, You shouldn't smoke ciggies or go drinking ale, Unless you're a Kopite in Bill Shankly's band That follows the team that's the best in the land. The Green Green Grass of Home Oh the old Kop looks the same, As I stand and watch the game, There?

Year's behind in rent all their money was spent, A bank that held nothing but zero's, But Houlding instead built a team dressed in red, Liverpool his Anfield heroes. The Reds Are Coming up the Hill The reds are coming up the hill boys, The reds are coming up the hill boys. They all laugh at us They all mock at us They all say our days are numbered. Victorious and glorious We took the Gwladys Street between four of us And glory be to God that there isn? The Men from Anfield's Spion Kop The Shores Of Tripoli.

We like to sing and shout, Because we know, We'll cheer the team to victory.

Classic Liverpool FC Songs - This Is Anfield

For it's a great team you'll agree, And we'll go down in history. We've won the cup, been champions too, And today we'll murder you. We're the Liverpool FC. And if you go to any ground, You'll always hear our songs. When he runs down the wing You can hear the Kop sing Billy Liddell! The Rocky Road to Wembley The Rocky Road to Dublin. Devils nearly scored almost before we staled. Packed into the ground, praying for a massacre, Stood behind a girl, she thought I made a pass at her. Boyfriend grabbed me arm - sounded the alarm, I tried me Liverpool charm but he was quite implacable. Well I packed me little jar- purely medicinal, Just to ease the throat before the semi-final.

Aston Villa's ground, what a piece of property. There in Villa park, Thompson lit the spark. We stayed on till dark in modest joviality, When we had a feed, we found that it was Leeds - a difficult team indeed, On the rocky road to Wembley. The Scarf My Father Wore It was back in nineteen-sixty-five On the very first day of May. Me Dad sang and danced for the lads in Red as he walked down Wembley Way.

John scored the goal that won The Cup we'd never won before. And as his son I love to wear The scarf my father wore. It is old but it is beautiful And its colours they are fine It was worn in Paris Wemberly In Rome and on the Rhine My father wore it as a youth In the bygone days of yore And as his son I love to wear The scarf my father wore.

Loyalists are we whose lives are pledged to Anfield, We have come, [where from] From the mighty Spion Kop Sworn to be Red, we're loyal Liverpudlians, We'll follow our team throughout the land. Tonight we'll raise the red flag high For Liverpool we live and die. And as we march, eternal light, We will chant a loyal song, Liverpool. We'll all sing end raise our glasses up, When we win the European Cup, We've got the greatest side in the land, And we're all known as Shankly's happy band.

These boots are made for shooting. And thats just what they'll do. And when we get to Hungary they'll score a goal or two. They keep saying we'll do something new, And rest assured thats what we're gonna do, When Ian St John and Roger come inside. They'll give the Honved goalie such a fright. Something else that really makes us sing, Is Callaghan and Thompson on the wing, Their centre forward may find things are cloudy. When he finds himself beneath big Rowdy. To the tune of Rotterdam -Beautiful South. Those Were The Days Na na na na, nana Come on you mighty reds, Come on you mighty reds, Come on you reds, Come on you mighty reds Come on you mighty reds, Come on you mighty reds, Come on you reds, Come on you mighty reds.

When the ground is full of Kopites And the kick off time is near. Here's the song we'll be singing When the boys in Red appear. Liverpool are the greatest, The greatest team in the land, Liverpool have the greatest, The greatest fans in the land, We are the pride, Of Merseyside. Liverpool - they are pure magic. And no matter where they play, When we go all over Europe.

You can hear the people say We'll collect another trophy When we go and play in Rome, And all the Kopites will be singing When we're on our way back home. Underneath the floodlights Down in Dusseldorf All the kop were singing Bevied up of course We've been to Lisbon and to Rome And our team "never walk alone" We're going off to Europe to bring the cup back home. All the way from Anfield to the gates of Rome, All the way from Anfield to bring the trophy home, Nothing can stop us come what may, We'll have our say, this is our day, Liverpool's red army, Is marching on it's way.

We are the Scousers We are the scousers The cocks of the north We hate man utd and city of course We only drink whisky and bottles of brown The Liverpool boys are in town Na na na na nanananana nanananana Oh we're the boys on the social, The boys on the dole, We're so fucking ugly We can't get our hole, But we all go mental When we score a goal, Oh the Liverpool Boys are in town. We dont carry bottles We dont carry lead We only carry hatchets to bury in your head We are loyal supporters Fanatics everyone We all hate man city, leeds and everton.

We are the pride of europe The pride of merseyside We fight for no surrender We fight for shanklys pride We hate Tottenham Hotspur we hate Chelsea too but most of all we hate the shite that play in Royal Blue. We hate Man United But Liverpool we love you. We Love you Liverpool We Love you Liverpool we do. Oh Liverpool we love you.

Shankly is our hero, he showed us how to play The mighty reds of Europe are out to win today He made a team of champions, with every man a king And every game we love to win and this is what we sing. Clemence is our goalie, the best there is around And Keegan is the greatest that Shankly ever found Heighway is our favourite, a wizard of the game Anh heres the mighty Toshack to do it once again. We've won the league, we've won the cup, We're masters of the game. And just to prove how good we are We'll do it all again. We've got another team to beat and so we've got to try 'Cos we're the best in all the land And that's the reason why..

Lyrics LFC Songs

We're a Happy Band We sing our songs with joy and pride, Every time we watch our side, In all the league we are top We're members of the mighty Kop [mighty Kop]. Chorus Liverpool supporters we're a happy band e aye addio That's because we're following the best team in the land. We're leaving in the morning light, Flying on a chartered plane, By noon we'll be in Budapest, By nine we'll know which team is best team is best.

Hungarians may laugh and grin, But wait till Roger bangs one in, And St. John will make them frown, We'll bring the irion curtain down curtain down. Their ghoulash may be up to scratch, But that won't help them win the match, When the winning goal brings down the house, They'll all resort to eating scouse eating scouse. Here in Liverpool we all say with pride, We are the supporters of the greatest football side, We are the champions, yes we are the kings, We are the champions and that is why we sing. Liverpool are the team We're the best you've ever seen, You can stick United and the rest Liverpool are still the best, Na na, na na na na, hey hey, we're the champions.

We have played the best in Europe and at home And our sportsmanship and skill to all is known, We tie the champions, there can be no doubt We are the champions and that is why we shout. We thank all those teams that gave us such a fright Now as your champions we'll set the world alight, We are the champions, shout it from the Kop We are the champions, that Liverpool are top. When Johnny Comes Marching Home While on the bus to Villa Park haroo, haroo, I heard my mate make this remark haroo,haroo, We made poor Chelsea weep and ill Its Liverpool 2 and Chelsea 0 and we'll all get blind drunk when Liverpool win the cup.

For the Liverpool lads raise your glass haroo, haroo To Stevenson who made the pass - haroo, haroo Thompson had them in a trance, Bonetti never stood a chance, And we'll all get blind drunk when Liverpool win the cup. It's Wembley on the first of May - haroo, haroo, It's Leeds United labour day - haroo, haroo, We'll be there to cheer Bill Shankly's side, And bring the cup to Merseyside, And we'll all get blind drunk when Liverpool win the cup.

John Power sings poor scouser Tommy

And if it's a draw you'll hear us moan, Lets use the coin that beat Cologne, And we'll all get blind drunk when Liverpool win the cup. Where Are The Lads? Oh father why are you so sad, Your face so pale and fraught, When all us reds are proud and glad Of the team that we support. Oh son I see in memory? Oh it grieves me that I will never see The Spion Kop again.

And so my son I? Who played before the greatest fans Their singing never stopped, Oh they sang and cheered and Liverpool revered On the mighty Spion Kop. So who do you think you are kidding Harry Catterick If you think the 'Pools no good. Well the Everton supporters they have had quite just enough They'd seen heir team two goals in front Then Shankly called his bluff, So who do you think you're kidding Harry Catterick If you think the 'pools no good.

Why are we so Good To the tune of "Ilkley Moor Baht At". Oh why are we so GOOD? Let me tell you the story of a poor boy, who was sent far away from his home, to fight for his king and his country, and also the old folks back home,. And the battle it started the next morning, under the radiant sun, I remember that Poor Scouser Tommy, he was shot by an old Nazi gun.

As he lay on the battlefield dying dying-dying , with the blood gushing out of his head, as he lay on the battle field dying dying-dying , These were the last words he said….. To support a team that plays in red, a team that we all know, a team that we called Liverpool, to glory we will go! Rush scored one, Rush scored two, Rush scored three, and Rush scored four! You led the great 11, Back in Rome in 77 And the red men they are still playing the same way…. We Love you Liverpool we do.