Wolverhampton Wanderers

At Molineux’s hallowed, historic ground,
Where black and gold in pride are bound,
The Wanderers stride with steady tread,
A chorus roaring, voices fed.

From Stafford’s streets to Midland’s sprawl,
They chase the ball, they give their all,
Each pass a promise, each tackle true,
A tapestry of red, of white, of blue.

The fans, a sea of loyal hearts,
Sing anthems that the night imparts,
“Keep right on to the end of the road,”
Their chant a flame that cannot slow.

Through triumph’s gleam and testing trial,
The Wolves pursue each weary mile,
With British grit and steadfast grace,
They etch their story time and place.

So raise a toast to Wolverhampton’s pride,
Where football’s soul cannot be denied—
The Wanderers, in black and gold,
Forever brave, forever bold.