We'll be running round Wembley with the cup, pissed
up,
We'll be running round Wembley with the cup, pissed up,
We'll be running round Wembley,
Running round Wembley,
Running round Wembley with the cup, pissed up
Oh it's a grand old team to play for,
Oh it's a grand old team to see,
And if, you know, your history,
It's enough to make your heart go woh, oh, oh,oh,
We don't care what the City fans say,
What, the hell do we care,
For we only know, that there's gonna be a show,
And the famous Man United will be there
Cheer up Kevin Keegan,
Oh what can it mean,
to a Sad Geordie b*stard,
and a Sh*te football team
From the banks of the River Irwell,
To the shores of Sicily,
We will fight, fight, fight, for United,
'Till we win the Football League,
To hell with Liverpool, To hell with Man City - (they're sh*t!)
We will fight, fight, fight, for United,
'Till we win the Football League
Drink, drink, wherever you may be,
We are the drunk and disorderly,
And we don't give a f*ck, and we don't give a sh*t,
We're going home with the championship
Neville Neville, You're future's immense,
Neville Neville, You play in defence,
Neville Neville, Like Jacko you're bad,
Neville Neville, Is the name of your dad.
If I die in the Kippax Street, who-oh, who-oh,
If I die in the Kippax Street, who-oh, who-oh,
If I die in the Kippax Street,
There'll be ten blue bastards at my feet,
Who-oh, oh who-oh, who-oh.
Use your head and use your feet, who-oh, who-oh,
Use your head and use your feet, who-oh, who-oh,
Use your head and use your feet,
Ten blue bastards at your feet,
Who-oh, oh who-oh, who-oh.
If my bones do not mend, who-oh, who-oh,
If my bones do not mend, who-oh, who-oh,
If my bones do not mend,
Carry me back to the Stretford End,
Who-oh, oh who-oh, who-oh.
Tiptoe, through the Kippax,
With a pick-axe,
And a sawn-off shotgun,
Tiptoe, through the Kippax, with me.
Dwight Yorke Wherever you may be,
You are the king of pornographie,
And you stuck 2 fingers up the john gregory,
Coz you are the king of pornographie
You are my Solskjaer, my Ole Solskjaer,
You make me happy, when skies are grey,
Oh Alan Shearer, was f*cking dearer,
So please don't take, my Solskjaer away
When I was a young lad,
Me dad said to me,
Are you coming to Maine Road,
To watch Man City?
I said fuck off dad,
Yer just an oud chap,
I'd rather go Oud Trafford,
And have a good scrap.
In 2001 we had a laugh
You won three trophy's you could buy in a caf
So we sing you this song, to leave you in tears
you haven't won the league for eleven years
11 years... fuck all
11 years... fuck all
United, United, rah, rah, rah
City, City, ha, ha, ha,
Leeds, Leeds, baa, baa, baa,
Scousers, Scousers, lock your car!
Nineteen years they've been waiting for a cup,
But this year like the last one is another fuck-up,
So its 6 points a season when your living next door to City,
City? Who the fuck are City?
We are the champions, my friend,
And we'll keep on fighting 'till the end,
We are the champions, we are the champions,
No time for losers, 'coz we are the champions,
Of the world.
back to top
To submit a chant just e-mail us :- adeepershadeofred@mufc.org
