Any excuse…
Was walking down the Witton Lane one dark and windy day
I spied a poor city fan a-running far away
I said to that poor city fan it’s time for you to die
He said ‘yes I know sir, Holte enders in the sky
He ran down the terraces and fell towards the gate
Little did he know that death was sure 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 felt just like granite and their pockets lined with lead
And if they catch a city fan he’s sure to wind up dead
Cuz Villa fans rule Birmingham and city fans know why
Cuz they have seen the glory of…
Holte Enders in the sky.
