.:: 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 that started next morning,
Under a Libyan sun,
I remember that poor Scouser Tommy,
Who 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 get 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,
And to glory we will go

We've won the League, we've won the Cup,
We've been to Europe too,
We played the Toffees for a laugh,
And we left them feeling blue - Five Nil !

One, two,
One, two, three,
One, two, three, four,
Five nil !

Rush scored one,
Rush scored two,
Rush scored three,
And Rush scored four!

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
 

All You Need Is Rush, de de de de de,

All You Need Is Rush, de de de de de,
All You Need Is Rush, Rush,
Rush Is All You Need.