His name is Claude Makélélé,
And to no one will I yield
In my admiration of the colossus
At the heart of the Chelsea midfield.
The oldest player on the team
His experience was immense
With his endless running and tackling,
He was the first line of defence.
He may be small in stature,
But for his heart we all can vouch;
He never knew when he was beaten
And he could out- jump Peter Crouch!
His work as defensive midfielder
Meant he rarely scored a goal.
But the pundits recognised his worth;
They called it the Makélélé role.
He only scored two goals for us;
And the first was rather tame.
But the second was a scorcher
Against our chums at White Hart Lane.
He wasn’t valued at Real Madrid
He was paid a fraction of his peers.
But when they sold him off to Chelsea
They won nothing for the following three years.
Mourinho based the team around him
And his talent he did revere.
When we won the league in 2005,
He named him Chelsea Player of the Year.
Now, sadly, he has left us
He will be impossible to replace.
We shall miss his skill and workrate,
And his happy, smiling face.
We’ve been promised exciting signings,
Like Robinho, and even Kaka.
But they’ll never replace the one I love;
I shall really miss you, Maka.