Guns Blazing

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People who in glass houses dwell,would be wise before they tell.

Of the demise of others,even their East Anglian brothers.

Lest up the A fifty two,there waits a little shock for you.

Forest while they don't have Clough,are probably quite good enough,

To bury Ipswich,six goals deep,and probably do it in their sleep.
 
This Gunner at the owner do holler,
I think he must spend a few dollars,
but his purse full to bust,
for in Arsene he doth trust,
not him for one second it bothers.

Our Boss is great friends with some agents you see,
and dear Arsene says I buy one, get one free,
He'll sign up good lads for no fee,
and loan out 'til near 23,
then when it is clear we don't need them around,
we sell on to pay for the ground.

When challenged the Board says oh! shucks,
we're certainly making big bucks,
so much longer we toil,
then sold out for some oil.

The yank he stays still keeps his hand on the bills,
for one day he'll sell us for trills.
Then Arsene he can leave as the best,
with euros stuffed into his vest,
it was fun while it lasted,
no longer he's blasted,
for kicking his drink on the pitch.
 
So set off we must, its long on the bus,
but food at the match is better than crusts,
and Delia cooks up a treat that can't be beat,
now on the pitch you'll feel the heat,
Its turkey and turnnips all done in a pie,
so healthy and local she's not shy.

Dear Mrs did make a few quid from her stake,
in feeding the nation's fat tum,
so with her hotpot- she's become a hotshot,
if only she'd put down that last glass!
So with a loud shout to encourage them out,
she's now known as that wealthy old trout.
 
Arsene is stick thin,like a gangly French pin,

His legs like elongated match stalks.

He wobbles about,like some swimming trout,

and uses his hands when he talks.

But better by far,wherever you are,

To get some decent grub in.

It does you no good,with pizza or pud,

To spread it on Sir Alex's chin.

Capital is reckless of the health or length of life of the labourer,unless under the compulsion of society - Karl Marx, proving he wasn't off his.
 
Twas a fine day and the sun it had glared,
and it wasn't so long before Chesney just stared,
at poor Per who plays like french Merde,
and hands first goal to the birds -points shared?

But lucky the team, for Martin was startin',
and two goal-line saves he did make,
the guys in nice red much praise had been said,
for the chances came and they went.

Down the sides we did run and much we did wander,
then as we got near the posts just to squander,
for so many created before van P was elated,
the defence was oft torn and so baited.

Cross grass to feet passed, the crowd called 'up Arse',
the story was bound to unfold,
the play it had settled the reds were now bold,
and guess who made it two fold?

With a sweep as in golf, RVP made the drive,
but was unable to make himself three,
now Norwich worked hard to avoid at least five,
but justice was done for a dive.

So in the red book, with a word and a look,
the ref played it subject to rules,
our class so to see, it ended in glee,
with points yes one, two, three.
 
We were well beaten, we can agree
So no real surprises, I´d say,
We knew we had to be fault-free
While you had a partial off day,
But once again we did our bit
To aid and abet our downfall,
Although, there´s no doubt, without it
We´d still have struggled to walk tall,
You just had more strings to your bow
So credit where credit is due,
Some top class performers on show
van Persie and Walcott are two,
But we´ll take this one on the chin
And soon be back ready for more,
There´s plenty here that we can win
And plenty more drama in store.

<cheers> Bergkamp