The King of the Kippax is laid to rest.
Better than Cantona, better than Best.
A humble man, hailing from the north east, he could run forever, with the shot of a beast.
Joe Mercer went shopping in the north west, bought him from Bury, you know the rest...
Bell, Lee and Summerbee the holy three, goals they came easy, City top of the tree.
The trophy room filled as the years passed by, but a reckless tackle had us asking, why?
Fast forward to Boxing Day 1977, Colin Bell named as substitute, the Kippax in heaven.
You came out to a reception fit for a king, the whole of Maine Road stood up to sing.
But the knee wasn't right, that half yard was missing.
The glory days gone, left the Kippax wishing...
But we'll remember your shirt number, sky blue No 8.
A footballing genius, forever a great.
Now rest in peace Colin, the game is done, but the Kippax remembers the games you have won.
I'll finish my tribute with a song we all sing...
We'll drink, a drink, a drink, to Colin the King, the King... A brilliant memory of the greatest footballer ever