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Bristol Rovers Team Songs
Irene, Goodnight Irene
We're loyal supporters, we're faithful and true
We always follow, the boys in blue (and white)
We all made a promise, that we'll never part
So Goodnight Irene, I'll see you in my dreams
Who's that team
Who's that team they call the City
Who's that team that never scores
And they play in red and white
And they're a load of shite
And their manager's mother is a whore
We're Gas
We're Gas and we're going up
We're Gas and we're going up
We're Gas and we're going up
(Eastville was next to a gas works. Fans said that when the
heads of the gasometers were rising, the smell overcame the opposition and helped
Rovers win, hence the name Gasheads)
You've got me singing the Blues!
I never felt more like singing the Blues
Than when Rovers win, and City lose
Oooo Rovers
You've got me singing the Blues!
We hate Joe Jordan, and all of the reds
The only good City fan is one that's dead
Oooo Rovers
You've got me singing the Blues!
Red, red Robin
When the red, red, robin goes bob, bob
bobbin' along
Shoot the bastard
Shoot the bastard
Shoot, shoot, shoot the bastard
He's only a poor little robin
He's only a poor little Robin
His wings are all tattered and torn
He made me feel sick
So I hit him with a brick
And now he don't sing any more!
Number four is a horse's arse
Number four, number four, number four is a
horse's arse
He's the meanest
He sucks a horse's penis
Number four is a horse's arse
He looks like a horse's arse!
He smells like a horse's arse!
He IS a horse's arse!
You're shit
Ooooooooooooor!
You're shit ahhhhhhh!
You've got AIDS ahhhhhhh
You suck cocks ahhhhhhhh
You shag sheep ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Aston Gate is full of shit
Oh Ashton Gate (oh Ashton Gate)
Is full of shit (is full of shit)
Oh Ashton Gate is full of shit
Full of shit, shit and more shit
Oh Ashton Gate is full of shit
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