Tall and fearless it stands, like a dark oak tree from the forgotten lands Arisen from sleep, we ask for just want one single glance. In awe I look upon the erected glory Wilfried bony, I squeal before it covers me in hunky dory
There i stood in the dock picking my nose in fury, i rolled em up in little balls and flicked em at the jury.
How do I love Swansea? Let me count the ways. I love Swansea to the depth (4th division) and breadth (Robbo and Bayo and Molby) and height (Dennis Lawrence) My willy ivor can reach, which, believe me, is out of sight For the goals of Bony and Leon's Grace. I love Swansea to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love Swansea freely, even when we're ****e; I love Swansea purely, as we leave a blaze. I love Swansea with a passion, sometimes abuse In my old griefs (Dai), and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints (Lauds), --- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God (who, clearly, doesn't exist) choose, I shall but love Swansea better after death.
Do not go Ker-diff into that good night, Old Sparkey should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though Jack men in our end wear black and white, Just because Tan likes red....? (shakes head) ohhh blueturds Do not go gentle into that good night. Grown men, in red wave bye, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a Premier bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who fought and shamed your club in fights, And learn, too late, they looked tits along the way, Do not go Ker-diff into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Ole's eyes blaze like meteors he's probably gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, Craig Bellamy, there on that sad height, Curse you, amuse me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go Ker-diff into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ****s
