A grey Tuesday morning, ‘neath Lancastrian skies
We wake once again to wipe tears from our eyes.
Forced to wear robes of weakness and pity,
As cowards attack the very heart of our city.
Like always, we’ll comfort and hold one another,
A Mancunian family of sisters and brothers.
For a time our strut is reduced to a stagger,
But make no mistake, we’ll rekindle our swagger.
We’ll learn how to live with another deep scar.
If you think you can beat us, you don’t know who we are!
We’re Collyhurst, Ancoats, Moston and Sale.
We’re Oldham and Bury; Ashton; Rochdale.
We’re Pankhurts and Turing, the Gallagher Brothers,
We’re Morrissey, Marr and a million others!
We’re a city of workers, a city of shirkers.
A city of tracksuits, and bibles and burkas.
Vegetarian, Rastafarian, Athiest, Jew.
100 red! 100% blue!
We’re each of us different but never alone.
In the Cosmopolitopia, we get to call ‘home’.
So, come at us again, and again if you must.
Time after time we’ll rise from the dust.
You’ll never prevail – not against us…
This is Manchester, our MANCHESTER
And the bees still buzz!”