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 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.

In a battle it started next morning,
Under an Libyan sun,
I remember that poor Scouser Tommy,
He was shot by an old Nazi gun

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...

Oh...I am a Liverpudlian,
I come from the Spion Kop,
I like to sing, I like to shout,
I go there quite a lot (every week)

We support the team that´s dressed 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 - five nil
1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4, 5-0!

Rush scored one,
Rush scored two,
Rush scored three,
And Rush scored four ...
Nananananana...

All you need is Rush, de de de
All you need is Rush, de de de
All you need is Rush
Rush
Rush is all you need...

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