Yay though verily didst become
the Season not finished strange and undone
And inst such turmoil, The Arse didst arrive,
at the Lane of Whitest Hart in the hope they mightst thrive.

Though chastened by resultage poor of late,
For this match those Goons indeed could not wait
The chance to level the points, balance the score,
even in semi-disgrace, they rushed through the door.

Yet Tottenham greeted them with fast and furious start
Arsenal bewildered; ‘what’s that all abart???’
Yet against all that is holy, all that is right,
Ramsey scored, he’s not even a knight!

One nil at half time, oh woe and sadness and horrid
But what would ensue was to be truly torrid.
And thus on minute 55, Francis Coquelin saw red
so walked away from the battle, in his hands his head

In shame and disgrace, a sinner forsooth
banished henceforth to the naughty booth.
And such was the power of the Lord
Who’d personally ensured this with word and with sword,

That the Arse were smote, not once, nor thrice,
but in the 2 minutes that followed, indeed t’were twice
First Sir Toby, of Belgium descent
Then Sir Harry hisself, the man Heaven sent

The Spurs 2-1 up, the angels didst sing
what more could this tournament possibly bring?
Yet the battle raged, in tooth and claw
The nobles singing loudly for us to score more

Yet t’wasn’t to be, a tragedy occurred
Sanchez scored for Arse, that dog-eaten turd
Thus the battle ended at the Lane,
A 2 all draw at the end of the game.

Itself not a tragedy in any classic sense
But the Lord was angry at such dissent
Then to cap it, to verily twist the knife,
Leicester won at Watford; such is fucking life.

And so, good people and Arsenal fans too
one measly point is just so much poo
Yet all the while, as I continue to grieve
I look at the table and I STILL BELIEVE.

Happy Sunday

Shakepeare (big Spurs fan)
xxxx