Don't shoot the messenger:
As I walked onto the Holte one dark and windy day,
I spied a poor blues fan a running far away
I said to that poor blues fan it's time for you to die
He said I know sir I've just seen Holte Enders in the sky
He ran down the terraces and then ran towards the gate
Little did he know death was to be his fate
He had one more short hour to live and then he'd hear the cry
That every city fan does fear: Holte Enders in the sky
Their fists where just like granite and their pockets full of lead,
And when they catch a city fan, you know he'll end up dead
Cause Villa fans rule Birmingham and city fans know why,
they've all seen and they've all heard Holte Enders in the sky,
