Grimsby Town

At Blundell Park, where Humber winds blow, The Mariners march, tout court, à l'attaque. No glossy glamour, just grit and slow Determination in the black and white pack.

Through rain-lashed Tuesday or Saturday's gleam, They chase that old leather with hearts full of hope. While cod boats drift silent on Grimsby's old stream, The faithful still sing, "Come on! Let's just cope!"

From the dockside to stands, through the years and the tears, There's a salt-kissed pride that won't wash away. For though leagues may shift and ambitions blur, The Mariners' spirit is here to stay.

So raise up your scarf, though the table's run low, And toast to the Blundell, come fog, come frost, come snow— For Grimsby Town's not just a team on the pitch, It's the town's stubborn heartbeat, and that's rich.