Cheer up Philip Larder, oh what can it mean to a, sad yorkshire ba$tard and a, $hite rugby team.
When the red red robin goes bob bob bobbin along, shoot the ba$tard, shoot the ba$tard ra ra ra.
Build a bonfire, build a bonfire, put the leythers on the top, put the swinton in the middle and we'll burn the effin lot.
He scores trys me lord, he scores trys, he scores trys me lord, he score trys, he scores trys me lord he scores trys, Offiah he scores trys.
Here we go, here we go, here we go.
Reds are here, reds are there reds are every effin where, na na na na na na na na na.
or
Reds are here, reds are there reds are not allowed to swear na na na na na na na na na. (sung away in the eighties at Thrum Hall when us fans were surrounded by police telling us to stop swearing).
You're all inbred, you're all inbred, you're all inbred, you're all inbred.
This is what its like to be Salford, this is what its like to be small, this is what its like when your team win nothing at all, nothing at all.
What the f uck is going on, what the f uck is going on!
Go home you bums, go home you bums, go home you bums go home.
You're gonna get your effin head kicked in.
$hit on the (said team) $hit on the (said team) tonight na na na na na na.
Where were you when you were $hit, where were you when you were $hit.
You're just a small town in Wigan, small town in Wigan. Or any other place to mention.
Still got loads more....................
