Glory, glory, Tottenham Hotspur
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
All the way from the Seven Sisters Road
In our humble abode
And right up to the old White Hart Lane
Once again the melodious refrain
You could hear the voices sweetly tuned
No more the festering wound
Like the dawn chorus of robin and curlew
Stop that night curfew
Serenading the fishmongers and butchers
That must have shook you
Along the Tottenham High Road
After what seems an eternity
This harmonious fraternity
It’s glory glory Tottenham Hotspur
Europa League winners
No more the sinners
What pleasure and relief
From misty moorland and back
To Hampstead Heath
Somewhere Bill Nick and Keith Burkinshaw
Are out there
Peeling back the years
And feeling pretty smug
They told you Spurs would do it
Last night they did
In Bilbao of course
As they clatter their castanets
Back of the goal nets
And flaunt their flamencos
These gleaming mementos
Celebrating with appropriate restraint
Unblemished and without taint
At first
Never quench the thirst
Champagne all around
But then who cares?
They were there
Spurs have done it again
Sangrias all around my good friend
It was there and vivid, just around the bend
For this was an all Anglo Europa League
Final to cherish
A bit of a damp squib
Apparently
Nothing to shout about now
But Spurs claim a trophy
Now that calls for a wow
For so long the bridesmaids
When the flowers were thrown
Wind blown
And yet no longer the hapless clown
Disregard the past no need
To frown
Oh a penny for thoughts
For Ruben Amorim
Manchester United, mortified
No longer fortified
By memories from the past
When Sir Alex was unsurpassable
What a blast
Domineering with Premier League
Trophies that glittered like
The chandeliers of the night
When Old Trafford was feverish
Frenzied, glorious and bright
Like a sputtering bulb that used
To be light
Now United finish their season
With a blunt, horrific shunt
Like a train that hits the buffers
Old Trafford grieves and suffers
United, beaten and defeated
When debates were heated
Against those silky, swaggerers of
Spurs, London as the Tower of London
Buckingham Palace, gone are the nerves
Martin Chivers, Steve Perryman,
Cyril Knowles, John Pratt too
Last night was for you
Ossie and Ricky
Like well groomed palominos
Cunning and tricky
From the decade
That some thought fashion forgot
When we assumed the rot
Had set in, but surely not
But Ardilles and Villa
Never forgetting their lines
The sun permanently shines
When the late 1970s
Spurs will remember their deeds
From the pages of history
Clearing the weeds and rusting
Needs and desires
Finally Spurs hear it on the wires
And clutch last night to
Their tender hearts
Saved from the hungry Premier
League sharks
Of the relegation trapdoor
Not exactly a bore nor flaw
But not though at their best
Lest we forget
That was your night Spurs
That was
Victory
Undeniably so
Finally reunited and revitalised
Energised after a season of woe
Oh no!
No longer anguish and languish
Ange, take a bow our Aussie friend
Spurs in their happiest moment
This will never end
A trophy in their cabinet
Winners again
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1