Stirling Albion

Stirling Albion

Och, the Binos take the field at Annfield’s humble ground,
Where black and white hoops flash like the Wallace Monument’s stone,
A chorus of scarf‑wrapped voices rises from the town,
Echoing over the Forth, a loyal, steady tone.

From the days of wartime grit to the modern league’s refrain,
They’ve chased the dream of promotion with a steadfast, humble heart,
Each tackle a pledge, each pass a soft‑spoken refrain,
Each goal a whisper that the brave can still depart

From the shadow of defeat, to taste the cup’s sweet gleam,
When the underdogs rose and startled the giants’ pride,
The fans, a thrumming tide, would shout and laugh and dream,
Knowing honour lies not just in silver, but in every stride.

So here’s to Stirling Albion, where passion meets the peat,
Where every match is verse, and every supporter’s beat
Is a stanza in the story of a club that won’t concede—
A poem written in black and white, on Scotland’s grassy creed.