just been sent to me on Facebook by Paul Premier Wig Moore.. not exactly Wordsworth but it cheered me up at this gutwrenching time.. R’ssss Way And now the end is near, And so we face the final whistle, My friend, I’ll say it clear, We’re staying up and that’s official, We’ve cheered on every goal, We’ve travelled each and every highway, But more, much more than this, we did it R’ssss way. Red cards, we’ve had a few But then again, too few to mention Ten men, were only left, but they played on without exception Hughes planned each game that came, each careful step along the Prem way But more, much more than this, we did it R’ssss way. Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew When the ref’s decisions were quite untrue But through it all when there was doubt We beat Liverpool and spat Arsenal out We faced it all, and we stood tall and did it R’ssss way We’ve loved, we’ve laughed and cried We’ve had our fill, our share of losing And now, as loyalty shows, it’s all of our own choosing To think we have all that And may I say, not in a shy way “Oh, no, oh no, not us, we did it R’ssss way ” So as a fan what have we got? Without our team, then not a lot To say the things we really feel, Loftus road ‘church’ is where we kneel The record shows, we took the blows and did it R’ssss way Yes we did it R’ssss way.
roses are red, but we wear hoops. if we win on sunday, I'm going for scoops! thank-you, thank-you, you're too kind.
The Rebel is back!!! Remember that the ' Rebel ' said we're all invited to a party back at his place if we stay up...eh Bob?
Great synopsis of the season - I'll have to find the music for "My Way". I never really cared for Sinatra, but had he sung something like this, well maybe...
I wandered lonely as a cloud, Oh f*ck another defensive blunder... Yeah, Wordsworth doesn't cut it somehow...
btw i didnt write that one-sent to me on Facebook but it inspired me to knock one out myself or rather make some much needed changes to Shakespeares Henry V Joey V Part 1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close Loftus Road up with our Rangers dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a Joey Barton As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of Jude the cat; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with a mistimed tackle; Then give the Stoke ******s a good seeing to; Let pry through the portage of Peter Crouch Let the Sean Derry loose; let Adel overwhelm them As fearfully as doth a Taiwoo Overhang and expose his huge hampton, Swelled like the head of a wild Zamora. Now set the teeth of Mackie and stretch his nostrils wide, Hold hard the breath of Cisse and bend up every spirit To his full height. Or that of Sean Wright Philips. Whose shooting is from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Ferdinands, Have in these parts from morn till dusk fought And worn their hooped shirts with pride: Dishonour not your Bowles; now attest That those whom you called Rodney did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser salaries, And teach them how to war. And you, good fans, Whose limbs were made in East Acton, show us here The quality of your abuse; let us swear That you are worth your season ticket; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble Premiership survival in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds at the White City dogtrap Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Sparky, Rangers, and Shepherds Bush!'
