The summer had come and hope had renewed,
This window would bring a star brighter than Giroud.
Other clubs in disarray, it’s time to strike,
Hurry Arsene, get Dick Law on his motorbike.
Dreams of Jovetic and Belgian fro’s,
Striking fear into the hearts of our foes.
Who’s next? Let’s bring in Wayne,
For Moyes, he cannot hide his disdain.
A chip on his shoulder and a point to prove,
He’ll forget about grannies and agree to a move.
Sure he was great but has his time passed?
About as useful as a prick at half-mast.
Sure he can score, but not enough thrust,
Arsene has better targets, he must!
Oh for where art thou, Gonzalo?
I thought it was done when Wilshere did follow,
Losing Higuain will be a tough pill to swallow,
Leaving Gooners with a feeling so hollow.
He ‘s clinical in front of goal, a provider of great passes,
His Argentinian backside, will mesmerize the masses.
Those talks have cooled, much to my dismay,
Now the biting, diving cheat, leads the fray.
Luis Suarez, a right nasty bastard,
Is the top target and no I’m not plastered.
His talent is there, for all to see,
What a match winner, he could be.
Volatile as ever, he packs a sting,
But of his name, would the fans sing?
Compromising the values, of club and virtue,
State you want him and fans will hurt you.
A polarizing personality, to say the least,
But no question, on the pitch he’s a beast
The papers say it’s so, but what do they know?
Higuain was done, now nothing to show?
Then there is Cesc, as some dream of a return,
Rumors of United, these we should spurn.
Everyone’s an expert; believe they’ve cracked the code,
But leave for United? The Twitterverse would implode.
We’re told to be patient by unlikely sources,
I believe they’ve been abducted by alien forces.
And what they’ve found from their penetrating probe,
Is that people are full of shit, all across the globe.
But the season is not lost, there is still time,
To find a midfielder with a touch, sublime.
On my board of strikers, names begin to fall,
Hurry up Arsene, don’t wait for last call.
We’ll be stuck with the leftovers and scraps,
And go home with greasy-haired Chamakhs.
The summer still has promise, but these lines are old,
No one wants talk Gazidis, spend on someone bold.
Break the shackles, show off our might,
Make our rivals cower in fright.
Show some intent and our dreams can take flight,
Arsenal will again set the Premier League alight!
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