Tis a curiously ironic fact, you’ll see, than there is, in fact, no… ehm
word in the English language that neatly rhymes with po-em.

And poetry is greatly needed today as a fitting tribute to a man called Kane,
a man who saved us all from horrendous and unrelenting pain.

That Harry Kane thus serves for us as a suitable anaesthetic
may in some eyes makes us look sad, silly and quite pathetic

Yet to lose to the Arsenal, our deepest of foes, would on the day
indeed fill us with more pain than in 50 Shades of Grey

Nipple clamps are nothing compared to Ozil scoring his lucky goal
It ripped out my heart, daggered into my chest and seared my very soul

The boss-eyed Turkish German wheeled round in joy and bliss
and that, for him, was the end of the match, he might as well have gone to take a piss

A very very long one, that lasted 80 minutes or more
his urologist would be wondering too whether the Kraut was getting rather sore,

He vanished away, whilst still the pitch, a feat not performed by many
his presence no longer felt, he became like the mist, contribution there wasn’t any

And thus Spurs battled on, with passion, with fight, with determination
everyone willing them on, in this and every other nation (except ISIS; they’re all gooners)

Eventually, inevitably, that pressure payed off rather well,
a corner, a flick-on, the Arsenal defence ignoring Harry as if he was a bad smell

So in at the far post, unmarked and all alone,
Harry, for the sins inflicted by Ozil’s goal, really didst atone

But it wasn’t over, there’s time left on the clock
The Arse woke up for a minute or two, but Lloris was like a rock

Then, 80-minutes plus; when a draw was looking rather sour
Super Harry Kane; cometh the man; cometh the hour.

Bentaleb put in a cross, long and curling and high,
Harry followed the ball, jumped and hung there, then connected sublimely, easy as fucking pie

The ball sailed in, the keeper floundered, defenders hung their heads in shame
They’d witnessed a miracle, they now believed in God, and his name is Harry Kane.

‘Free points is free points’, an opinion so often expressed,
doesn’t matter where you get them, winning is always for the best

But free points against the Arsenal is immediately worth six at least
To beat the enemy, to put things right, to finally tame the beast.

I could almost feel sorry for the Arse, but only almost indeed,
For forth place in the league we have certainly sown the seed.

The sun doth shine, the heavens are appeased, the birds sing their merry song
A gorgeous day in London; Wenger pondering where it all went horribly wrong.

Happy happy HAPPY Sunday

A xxxx