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 ...