Smell The Silverware And Taste Its Glory Poem by Funom Makama

From the wonder days of Thierry,
his every move makes us merry.
Then the magic of Wiltord,
reminds us he is the field Lord.
Oh! the fluidity and the best of Fabregas,
showing as though never out of gas.
The gracious quick feet of Theo,
shows the natural instinct of a Leo.

We may seem silent but not morbid,
slowly getting there and never rigid,
not this season? God forbid.
Winning a trophy is our major bid.

Letting go of Adebayor,
is like re-shuffling the cabinet of a Mayor.
Giving the chance to our great Ramsey,
gives football World something to fansy.
With the great prospect in Wilshere,
there would be enormous glory to share.
And the insurance we get from song,
indicates the reward will not be long.


We may seem silent but not morbid,
slowly getting there and never rigid,
not this season? God forbid.
Winning a trophy is our major bid.

Tip-tap the rolling ball is so classy,
but without a Trophy makes it messy.
Having a Commander-in-Chief like Persie,
makes the blending perfect and sexy.
And if you doubt, ask Chelsea.

Even though mocked by Bendtner,
still alive because we have Sagna.
The new intimidating team spirit is a signal
that soon every lip shall scream 'Arsenal'