Wikipedia calls it an inspirational sports anthem; it was played in the dressing room during Liverpool's astounding Champions League triumph in 2005; and it's played in honour of Nathan Burns, a young striker finding the net for Australian A-League side Adelaide United.

And as Wolves maintain their charge for the Championship play-offs, despite emerging from two tricky away games with a solitary point, Ring Of Fire's stoking the Premiership dream.

It's come to signify the excitement surrounding Mick McCarthy's charges. With increasing gusto, it's been belted out at the last three away games - Kenilworth Road, The Ricoh Arena and yesterday Hillsborough.

Wikipedia and YouTube point to it being Liverpool's anthem. But if Wolves do reach the Championship play-off final, it will be the tune that rocks Wembley.

I gave up on travelling with Wolves after a brick found its way on board the supporters' coach taking me home from St Andrews. There's more to life, I thought, than running a gauntlet of hate. And that's not to suggest for a second that all Wolves fans are angels either.

But I've rediscovered the tribal delights of away trips. It started before Christmas at Loftus Road - and of course it doesn't half make the return journey fly by when your team's on a run of seven wins and two defeats in 11 away games.

When Andy Keogh quite literally lashed home the equaliser in the dying seconds at improving Sheffield Wednesday, the away end erupted. There's something very special about being caught up in something like that. It's wild, it's passionate, it's bonkers. And it's tremendous fun.

I was grabbed by a total stranger for a jig in the aisles. It was hardly Strictly Come Dancing, but I didn't object. He was wearing a Burberry cap - I didn't think objecting was an option. His mate then whipped off his shirt to expose a tattooed wolf head on what my son rather tastefully described as a "man boob".

You've three choices as a Wolves fan. To the tune of Ring of Fire you can sing along using just one word: Duh.

You can sing Wolverhampton Wander-ersssss, or you can vote for option three, which, despite the best efforts of a tiny group of South Bank choir members, has still to fully catch on: Michael Kightly and McIndoe-oooooo, Stephen Ward Andy Keogh-oooooo.

Wolves have had three main theme tunes in my lifetime. I caught the tail end of The Happy Wanderer in the 1970s. Oh how we loved to go a-wandering along the mountain track.

"And as I go, I love to sing, My knapsack on my back." But before you could add: "Val-deri,Val-dera, Val-deri,
Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," we were on to The Harry J Allstars for Liquidator.

But even though that tune can still be heard ringing out at Stamford Bridge, it was banned at Molineux for the anti-West Bromwich Albion sentiments it provoked.

On to Hi-Ho Wolver-hampton, instead of Jeff Beck's Silver Lining. You see, until this season, Wolves haven't been big on silver linings.

Fans have reworked Lonnie Donegan's My Old Man's A Dustman to proclaim to the world: Stevie Bull's a tatter, he wears an England cap, he plays for Wolverhampton, he is a lovely chap. He scores with his left foot, he scores with his right. And when we play the Albion, he'll score..........on quite a considerable number of occasions (or words to that effect).

But now it's Johnny Cash's/Dario G's Ring of Fire - and it's fanning the flames of expectation.

If a Black Country rendition of Ring of Fire is to reverberate around Wembley, McCarthy's men have to successfully navigate nine more matches.

And that includes visits to Sunderland (what a cracker that could be!), Crystal Palace and Leicester. Home fans beware - a tuneless Black Country choir is heading your way with a word-less song to sing, hope in their hearts...and a wolf crest on their man boobs!