I've heard some good songs on the terraces.
This one is a classic.
We're not English we are Scouse,
We're not English we are Scouse,
We're not English,
We're not English,
We're not English we are Scouse,
You can stick the royal family up your arse,
You can stick the royal family up your arse,
You can stick the royal family,
Stick the royal family,
You can stick the royal family up your arse...
And this has been going for a few decades now.
It was back in nineteen-sixty-five
On the very first day of May.
Me Dad sang and danced for the lads in Red
as he walked down Wembley Way.
Ian St. John scored the goal that won
The Cup we'd never won before.
And as his son I love to wear
The scarf my father wore.
It is old but it is beautiful
And its colours they are fine
It was worn in Paris, Wem-ber-ly
In Rome and on the Rhine
My father wore it as a youth
In the bygone days of yore
And as his son I love to wear
The scarf my father wore.
And a few modern classics.
She loves a scouse cockerel,
She loves a scouse cockerel,
John Terry's ma,
She loves a scouse cockerel
You'll never shag a sexy bird, Rooney, Rooney,
You'll never shag a sexy bird, Rooney, Rooney,
He used to play for EFC and now hes shagging OAPs
Fat rotter Rooney,
Wants to shag your gran...
Chelsea, Chelsea, wherever you may be,
Don't leave your wife with John Terry.
His dad deals coke,
His mum steals tea
He cried when he missed a penalty...