Post by onenedkelly on May 17, 2006 8:55:12 GMT
There's a place we know where Scousers go
and it's always lots of fun
you can have a laugh at many things
if you're ready with a pun
You can mock the dead of Munich
be glad that George Best's dead
you can sing a dozen funny songs
of Duncan Edward's head
You can hope that Gary Neville
gets cancer and he dies
throw ammonia at Whiteside
and hope it blinds his eyes
You can even stone an ambulance
where Alan Smith is lying
even if it doesn't overturn
it's bound to be fun trying
You can talk of many pleasant things
with your like-minded mates
but you'll pause to show such reverence
as you pass the Shankly Gates
Where every single Scouser
who ever passed away
must be honoured and respected
have their own special day
Cos Scousers are a special breed
their hearts upon their sleeve
they ask the country to join in
and watch them as they grieve
They celebrate and they respect
each Scouser who departs
they ask that we can shed their tears
and nurse their broken hearts
Yet mention dead of anyone
who doesn't fit their own
they laugh out loud there is no shred
of honour ever shown
They laugh at young men dying
on runways filled with ice
and celebrate that Munich day
and never would think twice
of mocking Harold Shipman's dead
that lived within our city
these wallowers in plastic grief
the masters of self pity
They wave their tin foil silverware
and throw cups filled with shit
to shower on opposing fans
but never will admit
the murder of their very own
their much loved Stanley knives
the night they killed Juventus fans
a tragic waste of lives
It's "justice for the 96"
but never 39
It's grieving for 'poor' Michael Shields
but not for Heysel dying
It's always everybody else
they're not the ones to blame
it was Chelsea, Yorkshire coppers
it's always been the same
We've all shed tears as 96
lay dying on the floor
but our sympathy has long since died
we'll grieve with you no more.
and it's always lots of fun
you can have a laugh at many things
if you're ready with a pun
You can mock the dead of Munich
be glad that George Best's dead
you can sing a dozen funny songs
of Duncan Edward's head
You can hope that Gary Neville
gets cancer and he dies
throw ammonia at Whiteside
and hope it blinds his eyes
You can even stone an ambulance
where Alan Smith is lying
even if it doesn't overturn
it's bound to be fun trying
You can talk of many pleasant things
with your like-minded mates
but you'll pause to show such reverence
as you pass the Shankly Gates
Where every single Scouser
who ever passed away
must be honoured and respected
have their own special day
Cos Scousers are a special breed
their hearts upon their sleeve
they ask the country to join in
and watch them as they grieve
They celebrate and they respect
each Scouser who departs
they ask that we can shed their tears
and nurse their broken hearts
Yet mention dead of anyone
who doesn't fit their own
they laugh out loud there is no shred
of honour ever shown
They laugh at young men dying
on runways filled with ice
and celebrate that Munich day
and never would think twice
of mocking Harold Shipman's dead
that lived within our city
these wallowers in plastic grief
the masters of self pity
They wave their tin foil silverware
and throw cups filled with shit
to shower on opposing fans
but never will admit
the murder of their very own
their much loved Stanley knives
the night they killed Juventus fans
a tragic waste of lives
It's "justice for the 96"
but never 39
It's grieving for 'poor' Michael Shields
but not for Heysel dying
It's always everybody else
they're not the ones to blame
it was Chelsea, Yorkshire coppers
it's always been the same
We've all shed tears as 96
lay dying on the floor
but our sympathy has long since died
we'll grieve with you no more.
