A Victory Chant That Held the World for a Moment – A Song of Unity and Triumph, Sung with the Joy of a Winning Team
In the jubilant spring of 1978, Paper Lace teamed up with Nottingham Forest F.C. to release We’ve Got the Whole World in Our Hands, a spirited anthem that climbed to No. 24 on the UK Singles Chart, spending six weeks in the rankings, and soared into the Top 10 in the Netherlands. Dropped on February 24 as a 7-inch single on Warner Bros. Records, with The Nottingham Forest March as its B-side, it didn’t chase the million-selling heights of The Night Chicago Died (No. 1 US, 1974), but it captured a fleeting, fervent moment of local pride. Written by John Fiddy and Barry Mason, adapting the traditional gospel tune, and produced in a lively session, it was a celebration tied to Nottingham Forest’s football glory under manager Brian Clough. For those of us who hummed it back then, it was a burst of pure elation—a song that turned a stadium roar into a melody we could carry home.
The story behind We’ve Got the Whole World in Our Hands is one of a city’s heartbeat syncing with its heroes. By ’78, Paper Lace—once Nottingham’s pop princes with hits like Billy Don’t Be a Hero (No. 1 UK, 1974)—had faded from their mid-’70s peak, their lineup shifting as Phil Wright and Cliff Fish held the reins. Meanwhile, Nottingham Forest were on fire, clinching the Football League First Division title in ’77-’78, their first ever, and gearing up for European Cup glory in ’79 and ’80. The single was a spontaneous cheer, born from the club’s ascent and the band’s hometown roots. Recorded with the team’s players joining in—rough voices blending with Wright’s lead—it was a quick, joyful affair, less polished than their earlier studio cuts but alive with the spirit of the terraces. It was a moment when music and sport clasped hands, a victory lap pressed onto vinyl, meant to echo through pubs and living rooms alike.
At its core, We’ve Got the Whole World in Our Hands is a shout of collective triumph—a declaration that for one shining season, Nottingham held the world in its grasp. “We’ve got the whole world in our hands,” they sing, a chant that swells with pride, “we all agree, Nottingham Forest are magic.” It’s about belonging, about a team and a town lifting each other up, a fleeting high where every fan felt invincible. For us who were there, it’s a memory of muddy pitches and packed stands, of scarves waved high and voices hoarse from cheering—a time when a song could bottle the thrill of a goal and the warmth of a shared dream. It’s less about the world beyond and more about the one we built together, a fleeting unity that glowed bright before the everyday crept back in.
Take yourself back to ’78—when the air buzzed with flares and sideburns, when Saturday meant the match and the radio was king. Paper Lace and Forest gave us this, a tune that spilled from the City Ground into every corner of our lives, a 45 spinning on a Dansette as we gathered round with pints and grins. It’s the sound of boots on wet grass, the flicker of a black-and-white set showing highlights, the rush of a crowd spilling out into the dusk. They’d ruled ’74 with tales of Chicago and heroes, but this was closer—our street, our lads, our song. It didn’t need to top charts; it topped our hearts, a moment when we were all champions, if only for six weeks. Now, with the years softening the edges, We’ve Got the Whole World in Our Hands drifts back—a faded scarf of sound, a cheer from a time when we held the world, and it held us right back.
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