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The Ballad of Hillsborough. Rewritten by Conor Barnard. The Liverpool Supporters, Were given the smaller end; Crammed behind the goal mouth, The fans were tightly Penned. Penned, Penned in their thousands, Penned under the sky. No one their had reckoned, That ninety-five would die.

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The ballad of hillsborough

The Ballad of Hillsborough

Rewritten by Conor Barnard


The Liverpool Supporters,

Were given the smaller end;

Crammed behind the goal mouth,

The fans were tightly Penned.


Penned, Penned in their thousands,

Penned under the sky.

No one their had reckoned,

That ninety-five would die


The barriers all buckled,

They couldn’t take the strain.

The cheers of jubilation

Turned into cries of pain.


And when they finally noticed,

The police unlocked the gate,

But the exit was too narrow

And they’d opened it to late.


The nation watched in horror

Stunned with disbelief

As the shadows from the goal mouth

Stained the pitch with grief


An inquiry has been opened

To find out who is to blame

But for those who lost their dear ones

Nothing will be the same


For nothing brings back the dead

Post mortems, flowers or prayers,

It’s like reaching the top of a stair well

And finding theirs no stairs


That drop into the darkness

Goes down and down and down

And the grief black water well there

Inviting you to drown.


Never to see you loved ones

Or hear them on the phone

It’s hard to believe when it happens

That you’ll never walk alone.


But down at the Kop at Anfield

The goal mouth shows it’s true:

The scarves around the crossbar

Are knotted red and blue.


Despite divided loyalties

Liverpool loves its own,

And every tribute there proclaims:

You’ll never walk alone-


Not by the banks of Mersey

Nor down the terraced streets;

Beneath the great cathedrals

A cities warm heart beats.


And now in the cold spring sunset,

The liver Bird’s aflame.

The Phoenix rose from the ashes:

A city can do the same.


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