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Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Remember this moment – chisel it in stone.
Silence from the Molineux, while we bang the drum
To signal our fond farewell to Division One:
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Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhaed
Circling the message ‘The Baggies are ahead!’
At Super Bob’s second, free a thousand doves
For we know with growing certainty, nothing gets past Russell’s gloves!
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The Baggies are my North, my South, my East and West,
Pride of the Black Country, better than the rest,
see the Brummie Road boing; listen to thier song!
I thought we’d never get promoted: I was wrong.
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The stars are not wanted now: put out every one
For nothing else matters now the Albion have won!
Pour away the old tears, sweep up the pain
For we’re heading for the top flight and the glory days again.