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I know there's another thread for memories of Coop, but I'm hoping my poem might merit a thread of its own. It's taken me all bloody day :sherlock:

A Kind of Magic

Its hard to believe its been seventeen years,

Since I sat in the playground and burst into tears.

On that fateful morning in March 95,

When I first heard the news Davie Cooper had died.

It hit me for six, it just couldnt be true,

The man was my hero, he bled royal blue.

But there was no mistake and the news was confirmed,

The Rangers had lost their favourite son.

Struck down in his prime with a ball at his feet,

Death the opponent even Coop couldnt beat.

At just thirty-nine hed been taken to heaven,

To play on the wing in Gods first eleven.

The nation was grieving and in just a few hours,

Ibrox was a shrine of scarves and of flowers.

When the school day was over I went with my mates,

To pay my respects at the famous blue gates.

With a tear in my eye I stood in the crowd,

As the sun momentarily broke through the cloud.

I looked to the skies and pictured him grinning,

Its not the end, its just the beginning.

I managed a smile though the scene was tragic,

Memories of Coop are a kind of magic.

Who could forget that cultured left foot?

The pass inside Aitken for Durranty to shoot.

That mazy dribble against Ilves Tampere,

Ghosting past men like they werent even there.

The strength, the control and the keepy up,

For that wonder goal in the Drybrough Cup.

The best free kick that Hampden has seen,

In the Skol Cup final against Aberdeen.

The penalty in Cardiff to take Scotland through,

Nerves of steel from the Moody Blue.

We miss you Davie and wonder when,

Or if well see your like again.

A fan who played for the team he loved,

Still watching down on the Gers from above.

And when he does hell hear us sing,

Of Davie Cooper on the wing.

RIP Davie

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I know there's another thread for memories of Coop, but I'm hoping my poem might merit a thread of its own. It's taken me all bloody day :sherlock:

A Kind of Magic

It’s hard to believe it’s been seventeen years,

Since I sat in the playground and burst into tears.

On that fateful morning in March ’95,

When I first heard the news Davie Cooper had died.

It hit me for six, it just couldn’t be true,

The man was my hero, he bled royal blue.

But there was no mistake and the news was confirmed,

The Rangers had lost their favourite son.

Struck down in his prime with a ball at his feet,

Death the opponent even Coop couldn’t beat.

At just thirty-nine he’d been taken to heaven,

To play on the wing in God’s first eleven.

The nation was grieving and in just a few hours,

Ibrox was a shrine of scarves and of flowers.

When the school day was over I went with my mates,

To pay my respects at the famous blue gates.

With a tear in my eye I stood in the crowd,

As the sun momentarily broke through the cloud.

I looked to the skies and pictured him grinning,

“It’s not the end, it’s just the beginning.”

I managed a smile though the scene was tragic,

Memories of Coop are a kind of magic.

Who could forget that cultured left foot?

The pass inside Aitken for Durranty to shoot.

That mazy dribble against Ilves Tampere,

Ghosting past men like they weren’t even there.

The strength, the control and the keepy up,

For that wonder goal in the Drybrough Cup.

The best free kick that Hampden has seen,

In the Skol Cup final against Aberdeen.

The penalty in Cardiff to take Scotland through,

Nerves of steel from the Moody Blue.

We miss you Davie and wonder when,

Or if we’ll see your like again.

A fan who played for the team he loved,

Still watching down on the Gers from above.

And when he does he’ll hear us sing,

Of Davie Cooper on the wing.

RIP Davie

Absolutely fantastic!

Never did get to see David play but from videos and what I've herd I wish I had!

Will always sing his name with pride knowing he ment so much , to so many!

Never forgotten !

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