Poor Scouser Tommy

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 higher 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 sand.

Now the battle it started next morning,

Under the radiant sun,

I remember our poor Scouser Tommy,

He was shot by an old Nazi gun

As he lay on the battlefield die-die-dying,

With the blood gushing out of his head (out of his head)

As he lay on the battlefield die-die-dying,

These were the last words he said:

Oooooh, I am a Liverpudlian,

and I come from the Spion Kop,

I like to sing, I like to chant,

I go there quite a lot.

Support a team, that plays in red,

A team that we all know,

A team that we call *Liverpool*,

To glory we will go.

We won the league, we won the cup,

We've been to Europe too,

We played the Toffees for a laugh,

And left them feeling blue (5-0)

1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4, 5-0!

Rush scored one,

Rush scored two,

Rush scored three,

And Rush scored four ...