I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floated on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
Of football hooligans, so I legged it.
What is this life, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare,
Because the stewards have told us to sit down.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs, and blaming it on you
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
Then you’ll make a good manager my son.
Born on a monday
Christened on a tuesday
Supported Sheffield Wednesday.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Now owned by Man City.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the the borogroves
And a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale pet.
The owl and the pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Because football mascots weren’t allowed on the coach.
My heart aches, and drowsy numbness pains
my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
A dodgy pie and pint at half time what did it.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height,
Said Cristiano Ronaldo, when seeing his reflection in his mirror.
All the worlds a stage,
And all the men and women players
They have their exits and entrances
Until the transfer deadline closes.