All the time you lied
Whilst chasing our poor backsides
Down motorways and through stations
In the name of civilization.
Chelsea suits fought solicitor gangs
But at Saltergate we were the harangued
The ordinary bemused factory slates
Clubbed, for singing with our mates.
Next week we shut up and went to Crewe
What else were we supposed to do?
There was no Xfactor or Xboxstations
No questions, options or ticket arrangements.
But now I’ve learnt to read
I understand your avarice, your greed
The establishment didn’t really hate Walsall
They just wanted to take over football.