The best footballer in the entire world is the lovely Harry Kane.
Ronaldo may score a lot more goals but he’s a total fucking pain.
Our ‘Arry may not be quite as pretty but he’s Spurs fru’ an’ fru’
so deep is Tottenham in his blood he could almost be a Jew.

So Everton, looking for a certain win, came down to White Hart Lane,
the easiest place to get three points, to our eternal shame.
But no more Mr Nice Guy, no more the softest touch
We’ll get right in their faces, hit ’em hard and kick ’em in the crotch.

Because this was the game that changed it all, heroic performance all around
No more the booing crowd as cheering echoed across the ground.
Our team of hapless journeymen suddenly gelled like aspic
Pochettiino’s patient masterplan for once didn’t sink like a brick.

The game was brilliant, exciting, furious, turbulent and fast
Then Miralles scored his wondergoal and memories came of losses past.
But hold on a minute; what could this possibly be?
A Spurs team that didn’t instantly collapse, give up and want to go home for tea.

Instead they stood their ground, raised their chins, pressed hard and passed really well
the football was exciting and graceful, for once no descent into hell.
Five minutes was all it took to equalise the score
But stil Spurs pressed on, eager, alert, always looking for more.

The team looked fantastic, effortful to a man,
working hard, neat and precise, like bankers in Japan,
Then on the stroke of half time, all that industry did indeed pay off
Soldado, of all people, scoring with class at which no-one would dare to scoff.

Defenders, attackers, midfielders all working off their lillywhite socks
For once not descending into a rabble of clueless shmocks.
They fought, they battled, they gave 100 percent
Playing with pride, with skill, with a confidence that really looked heaven-sent.

At last the final whistle, a victory for Spurs at the Lane,
The angels sang, the gods appeased, the effort was not in vain
Once more the joy of victory, free points to put in the bank
Wednesday we go to Chelsea, who are a load of bleedin wank.

The season’s changed, the omens are looking bright
This Spurs team is suddenly brilliant, win the league we might…
But we’ll take it all just one game at a time
God’s very own team for once worthy of the rhyme.

Very happy Monday

A xxxx