Rising in the Black Gold North
Where life was hard spent the pit.
A new religion, mighty and loud
Descended down on the Park of St Jimmy
The Cat sits in his cradle
Taking in the game
Ready to act and more than able
Ronnie Simpson is his name
Aided and abetted by defenders four
Psycho Pearce and Watson on the wings
Moncur and Harvey stay strong on the inside
Securing attackers near and wide
Midfield protection with Batty and Speed
Gives the time for Beardsley’s feet
Playmaker Gazza, as cheeky as ever
Will he ever learn… probably never
Supermac claiming the coveted number 9
Sorry Mac there are others in line
The Shirt goes to Wor Jackie, of an earlier era
then it's a toss up, Stubbins, Gallagher or Shearer
For over a century, club and city are one
But who should the Manager be
Keegan the Messiah? Never Gordon Lee
My choice is Mr Newcastle,
The late Joe Harvey
Fairs Cup Final, 2-0 down
Upjest Dohza rampant, upon their home ground
Half time came the team dejected
Heads were down, a beaten team
Joe just said, what's the matter with you lot
They have given all they have got
I'm telling you now to score a goal
They will collapse, the Cup is ours
He was right, a Moncur goal was all it needed
United Rose, his words were heeded
Legend ever since surrounds their names
But without Joe they would not have succeeded
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