From Aberdeen to Manchester’s heart,
Where working hands first played their part,
A Granite City boy so fast,
Would write his name in gold to last.
The King they crowned at Stretford’s End,
Where net and leather were his friend,
That backheeled goal in City blue
Could never mask the red that grew.
First of that Trinity divine,
With George and Best he’d intertwine,
The Law-man’s verdict always sure:
When Denis shot, the net was pure.
That Scottish heart, that striker’s soul,
Two-thirty-seven his United goal toll,
European Player of the Year,
The Lawman’s legend crystal clear.
They called him Menace, for his art
Of terrorizing from the start,
All elbows, pace and Scottish fire,
The greatest pest they’d ever hired.
Now Heaven’s team has gained its star,
The King has journeyed home so far,
But in Old Trafford’s hallowed air,
The Lawman’s goals still linger there.
For every kid who dreams to play,
Remember him who passed today,
From Aberdeen he showed the way,
Denis the King, forever may you stay.
Rest in Peace, Denis Law (1940-2025)
The King of the Stretford End
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