He was just a lad from Huyton,
Now a legend of the game,
Since his debut in 1998,
The Kopites chant his name.
His first goal came in 99,
When Sheffield came to town,
Since that day look what he’s done,
He never lets us down.
He led us through the good times,
And also through the bad,
Winning games all by himself,
A loyal local lad,
In Istanbul at 3-0 down,
The win had gone adrift,
Stevie stepped up to the plate,
And gave the team a lift.
When Roman flashed his wad of cash,
Jose said name your price,
Stevie kept on winning games,
Coz Londons not that nice,
He didn’t go the Nou Camp,
Or grace the Bernabau,
The Champions League came home to roost,
And left us thinking WOW !!
That game with Olympiacos,
Pumped up and full of pride,
He smashed one in from 30 yds
When all our hopes had died,
For him it was not money,
He simply loves the game,
What’s the point in winning titles,
If the Kop don’t chant your name.
Thanks for all the memories,
For all those games you won,
Your woven in the fabric,
Your Anfield’s favourite son,
When you play your last game at Anfield,
I know you’ll wipe your eyes,
The Kop love you like you love them,
And that….you can’t disguise.,
This poem has come to its very end,
I raise my glass and say,
Off you go…enjoy yourself,
You’ll come back to us one day !!
Bri Cummings