[OwenWright]

The Last Dance

At the start they where a dance club
Their members then did say
Why don't we change to football
Down Gorgie we shall play

They did win cups and honours
Became a force to a point, they say
Beat the Hibs the Celts the Rangers
Illusions of grandeur, yes, maybe

A devil mamed Wallace Mercer
Then intrigued a new idea
To close their nearest rivals
Hibs rebelled against his plea

He failed, sold out to a pieman
Their club he turned to mince
He sold out to a flyman
A banker, Lithuanian prince

Well Vlad he promised glory
European football, wins, romance
The truth is now evolving
He's returning their last dance

They're gone, not here, forgotten
The maroon brigade now cry
The city is now Hibernian
The team that would not die.

Get it up ye, ya gunts. GGTTH.