The Kop .....

Posted by Zappa on December 23, 2004, 12:19:25 PM

Over forty years ago
I was devoured by the Kop
Shankly showed me all I know
Redmen taught me to be true
And the journey was long
And the treasure was good
We were made to belong
To the kop, where we stood.

To you who speak Txt or in smilies
Ye who can’t spell Shanklys name right
And can't arsed to read a long thread
Or string four words together all night
And for this thread I know you won’t thank us
So this bits for you:
Fuck off you  :wanker :wanker :wanker
ILMFAO

Heysel’s horror appalled me
Hillsborough numbed; I cried
In revenge, they killed the Kop
And with its death my father died
For ten years in mourning I stayed away
Till Souness killed my wounded side
But the radio was on every match day
For the heart of a koppite can’t die

Do you know how it feels?
To belong to something
With your breath it has sung
In your mind it still sings
You breathe with its lungs
To the beat of its heart
You learnt from despair
To dance with the Kop in its joy

I was taught the Liverpool way
No-one ever walked alone
We clapped opponent’s skillful play
Loved our players to the bone
Songs of history songs of wit
The soundtrack to Anfield’s long life
Mostly don’t feature “Fuck” or “Shit”
Or insult some daft players wife.

A struggling player?
then sing out his name.
SUPPORT him with honour
He’ll come good again.
A kid starting out?
The mistakes are assured
Understanding repaid
By the goal he just scored

You tell me I’m getting too old
And the glory is all “Auld Lang Syne”
But it lingers afresh in my soul
And I still see the goals in my mind
My emotions say I own this club
It owned me; long before you
My relationship is purely love
Honoured and steadfast and true

What a sterile old place
is the Walton Breck End
It’s no longer the Kop,
it’s no longer a friend
Sullen and silent
No friends there to meet
You all have to sit
Reserved ticket seats

Sons and daughters of Walton Breck Road
Little faith you display
Scant respect you are owed
Your allegiance is grey
Shallow in faith
Your vision is dim
You speak well of Shankly
But your not from him

We win against Wrexham
And you’re wetting your kecks
We lose to the Blues
And you’re all sulking wrecks.
To the “bitters” spit bile
With no hope in your hearts
And no faith and no style
You have borrowed their part!

Adieu to GH
a new Shankly we seek
Enter Rafa the Saviour
Your patience lasts weeks
At the start of the season
If you’d have thought we’d be here
You’d have taken it gladly
Now read posts on here!

Bring us Money from Morgan
Or Siam or Yanks
The dollar is king;
Success flows from Banks
Oh! let us spend zillions
Of pounds we don’t have
 Mercenaries playing for millions
Not for the pride of the badge.

The answer to everything’s money
“Yes we bought our success in the sales”
“The black market profits were super”
“Oh you don’t want to know the details”
Raggedy-arsed kids in the boys pen
Used to look down from high, and dream dreams
They’d need to be up to some scam now
To afford the notes to get in.

Music and Boxing and football
To no-hopers presented a chance
A future, their future- OUR future
Through fitness and skill to advance
To watch and to learn from the legends
Who at Anfields bastion played
But we don’t want to know the young kids now
And prefer players bought - ready-made

In the glory years
Through which we strode
We couldn’t match the cash
Of them up the East Lancs Road
Yet we beat them by building
By patience and skill
Through the knowledge of Kenny
And Joe, Bob and Bill

I am a Liverpudlian
I am part of THE Spion Kop
I loved, sang and shouted
I am everything you’re not
I support THE team that’s dressed in red
It’s a concept you can’t know
It’s a spirit that’s called Liv –er- pool
Back to glory we will go

Yes I’m old, and increasingly bitter
That from Shanklys foundations we strayed
And replaced the supporters with moaners
And the kids with the well overpaid
But there still lies a hope in my anger
Given patience our new time will come
We will rebuild his bastion and treasure
And complete the job Shankly begun

Moaning Rawkites- I don’t know the names of
Or care where you’ve been or you’re from
You may sit in your “kop”; its not THE KOP
You may sit, but you’ll never belong
Sullen and silent and snidey
Except for the moans and the boos
You are not of THE way; the one true way
Please piss off- go and  try out the Blues


© VWA 2004

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