The Rhyme of 'Arry the Albatross

It is an ancient wheeler dealer,

And he stoppeth one of three.

`By thy twitching 'ead and saggy face

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?



The dressing-room doors are opened wide,

And I am Avram Grant;

The players are met, the tactics are set:

Mayst hear the merry din.'



He holds Avram with his blotchy hand,

"There was a club," quoth he.

`Hold off! unhand me, saggy faced loon!'

Eftsoons his hand dropped he.



He holds Avram with his glittering eye -

The West Ham manager stood still,

And listens like a three years' child:

Old 'Arry hath his will.



The West Ham man sat on a stone:

He cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient manager,

The saggy faced old 'Arry.



"The club was cheered, the Championship cleared,

Merrily we did not drop

Below the Prem, beneath all hopes,

Below the glorious top.



The sun came up upon the left,

Out of the East came he!

And he shone bright, and on the right

Went down into the Thames.



Higher and higher every day,

Till over the club at noon -"

And Avram Grant here beat his breast,

For he heard the bubbles blow.



And Avram Grant he beat his breast,

Yet he cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that saggy faced man,

The head twitching old 'Arry.



"And now the storm-blast came, and he

Was tyrannous and strong:

He struck with his o'ertaking wings,

And chased us down and down.



And now there came both Camara and Song,

And it grew wondrous cold:

And terrible results came floating by,

As black as blackest Cole.



And through the drifts the Academy kids

Did send a hopeful sheen:

Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken -

Innocence was all between.



Bad results were here, bad results were there,

Bad results were all around:

Old Brown was cracked, then growled, and roared and howled,

Like noises in a swound!



At length he did cross this Albatross,

Onto the training pitch he came;

He sold the players he ne'er should have sold,

And round and round he flew.

The club did split with a thunder-fit;

The Chairman knifed it through!



And a good south wind sprung up behind;

And good results did follow,

And every day, for money and gain

The Terrence Brown's did hollo!


`God save thee, ancient Manager,

From the fiends that plague thee thus! -

Avram asked, Why look'st thou so?' -


"Because with his crossbow

Brown shot 'Arry

the Albatross."