Notts County

At Meadow Lane where echoes dwell,
The Magpies whisper tales of old—
A crimson kit, a steadfast spell,
Since eighteen‑sixty‑four they’ve boldly told.

From lowly grounds to lofty chants,
The faithful roar in terraced pride,
Their hearts beat like the Trent’s advance,
Through every win, through every tide.

Oh, Notts County, England’s first,
A legacy stitched in grit and grace—
Your story’s writ in every verse,
A timeless race across time’s space.