Summer
¶ 1
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Summertime dreams
Lounging by lethargic sun beams
Football finds its transfer speculation
For constant illumination
Without expectation
Claret and blue anticipation
You have to be joking
Amid the languid smoking
You scan the papers
For the shock headline makers
The intriguing rumours
But then the humours
Become stale and vapid
Just as the heartbeat became rapid
West Ham searching for Lingard,
Sarr, Dennis and anybody willing
As long as we don’t have to pay the shilling
Ward Prowse never douse the hopes
Those themes and tropes of yesterday
When Hammers revelled in their yearly
Holiday, close season, your birthday
As the matches we fondly remembered
But then our hopes became dismembered
Buy as many players as you can
Before your face loses its tan
Once again it’s City Manchester of course
Let’s cheer until we’re hoarse
On the opening day of the new season
There can be no reason
West Ham meet Pep’s Premier League
Winners, those versatile plate spinners
In a class of their own
You can be sure there will
Be nobody out on loan
City will be looking for their
Hat-trick
Be sure they’ll click
With clockwork precision
You’ll be sure their decision
Will be right and bright
At the moment there’s only one more
In the claret and blue fashion parade
Yet Hammers bubbles will never fade
Aguerd in defence of the realm
Try not to overwhelm
Him at the helm of the London Stadium
As opposed to the Palladium
But now Mark Noble and skipper
Has retired, the midfield needs
To be drastically rewired
A striker or centre forward
They so desperately need
Somebody lithe and sprightly to feed
An assistant to Bowen and Antonio
In our portfolio
There has to be that elusive goal scorer
Without which we’re considerably poorer
A Brazilian with the sublime genius of a Pele,
Garrincha or even Carlos Alberto
Just for good measure
A national treasure
The Happy Hammers now at leisure
Be prepared for August opening stages
And don’t forget their wages
Those pampered Premier League stars
Foot loose in their fancy, ostentatious cars
West Ham now is the time to invest in the best
Before we resume
And there’s nobody in the room
With the class and technique
Of the unique
Splash the cash but
Not before you clash
With ever pretty City
A joy and elation
An exquisite celebration
Surely not a third Premier League
Title, and words
Unheard of, Again
When, it’s improbable
Perhaps within the realms
Of the probable. That
Successive hat-trick
That will really stick
In the craw of those we adore
West Ham, Premier League
New season, remodelled
Maybe mollycoddled
Exciting, biting, witty
And gritty
Come on West Ham
Your fanatical audience
Awaits again around us
At the London Stadium
From the bus
As they assemble in their
Huge droves from
East End groves of learning
Earning their keep
Gathering like sheep
Fans, fanzines, pies and chips
Where once Docklands and ships
Once harboured our wishes
Among the shoals and fishes
Another season for the Hammers
At Stratford’s finest
Certainly not shyest
East London
Pride, another shot
Narrowly wide
Come on you Irons
No whines
Next season will be ours
For endless hours
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