Salford Song

A Salford son sang of Salford dirty

He sang of this town old

Of loving folk who still salt the earth here

Within a climate cold

 

No factory croft

No Gas works wall

Landscapes have changed

So’s the shape of the ball

 

And all the Champagne, Cigars and caviar of the incoming Noveaux Riche

Cannot buy A Taste of Honey

Where tradition runs rich and deep

 

Where you’ll still see the odd mongrel dog on the pitch

Smell Bovril at half time

Hear cold turnstiles go click

See rattles in hands

Small kids with freckles

Match stalk men from Lower Broughton

North Country Boys from Eccles

 

And a Mayoral Monkey driven in sane

Blyth Spirit from a Christmas past

Or will the underdog bite Again?

 

Predictions are useless

But the winner takes it all

The champagne cigars and the cavalcade of stars

In the FA Cup 3rd Round draw

 

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