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Every year our supporters get into the festive
season by, amongst other things, coming up with alternative
Christmas songs. We hope you enjoy them, and a nod to the
wise, they might sound even better after a couple of Granny's
"special" egg-nogs...
This was written back in 2004 when we played
Arsenal up at the old library just before Christmas.
A
few of my favourite things
This one started on the Chelsea in America
chat site Christmas 2007 and just grew and grew as people kept
contributing verses.
If you have an alternative Christmas or other
holiday song then why not share it with the rest of us. Go out
to the Chelsea in
America bulletin board, post your work, and sit back while you
imagine Chelsea fans all over the world humming *your* words to
their Christmas songs this Christmas....
Twas The 11th of December
Twas the 11th of December up
at Arsenal’s library,
Not a Gooner was stirring, Not even Henry;
The home kit was hung in the dressing room with care,
In hope that Gooner pride, Chelsea would spare;
The players were nestled all
snug in their beds,
While thoughts of past glories danced in their heads;
On his own in his office, cheeky smile, bag of sweets,
Proudly Wenger gazed down on his long list of cheats;
When down on the pitch there
arose such a clatter,
He sprung from his chair to see what was the matter;
Away to the window he flew in a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash;
The floodlights weren’t lit
but in the moon’s eerie glow,
He rubbed his eyes twice at what he saw below;
And as his gaze crossed the field to the tunnel of players,
He saw such a sight, and it wasn’t Jose Reyes!
Led out by a man, needing no
fanfare or band,
He knew right away this was the best coach in the land;
Twas clear Jose’s men had talents his never could match,
A champion of Europe, simple as that;
More rapid than eagles his
players they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name;
Now Terry!, now Lampard!, now Gudjohnsen and Drogba,
On Robben!, on Cole!, on young Scotty Parker!
From the dressing room
dreary to the middle of the pitch,
Let’s show them we’re loaded, we’re wealthy and rich!
Though with a Portuguese coach and a Russian owner so smart,
It was clear that this team had an English Lion’s heart!
And then in an instant,
Wenger a double take took,
As there in the doorway, with such debonair look;
Was the man who this year’s Premier League would now win,
It was Jose Mourinho, with that wise, knowing grin;
He was dressed in a heavy
coat down to his knees,
He was slightly unshaven, but sharp as you please;
Unlike Fergie his cheeks were not rosy and red,
Nor did he have pizza slices stuck to his head;
With a wink of his eye and a
twist of his head,
He soon gave Wenger to know he had something to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Creating footballing magic, no hard work would he shirk;
And laying his finger aside
of his nose,
And giving a nod, back out the door Mourinho goes;
He walked to the field, and to his team gave a whistle,
And it was clear that tomorrow Arsenal would look brittle;
Spirit, teamwork, integrity
were this team through and through,
Champions League winners was their destiny too;
And Wenger heard him exclaim, as Jose drove out of sight,
The Premiership’s ours, so to all a good night!
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My Favourite Things
Two Premiership trophies with which we are
smitten,
JT in long socks and Maka in mittens,
Old Chelsea programs all tied up with string
These are a few of my favourite things
Two pints of Strongbow and a big So Bar burger
Betting on Chelsea for a nice little earner,
Carefree forever and ever we’ll sing,
These are a few of my favourite things
Petr and Carlo with all their safe catches,
Celery bits on my nose and eye lashes,
Big shiny trophies we’ll win in the spring
These are a few of my favourite things
When the Drog’s hurt,
When the Cop sings,
When I’m feeling bad,
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don’t feel, so, bad.
Bulldogs called Spot fighting Wenger's French
poodles
Drunk fans mowing meadows, the ploughs' tracks all like doodles
Small Scottish wingers who jink down the wings
These are a few of my favourite things
Geezers like Ossie and Webby and Chopper
Cech or Bonetti, each one could be stopper
Huddy in midfield pulling the strings
These are a few of my favourite things
The Shed in full voice and getting their big
kicks
Zola twisting the blood of that twat Julian Dicks
Osgood forever the greatest of kings
These are a few of my favourite things
And at the other end the north stand are all
in fine voice
10 men went to mow being one song of choice
Then as the ball goes in between the sticks
Everyone's screaming at those red scouser pr*ks!
Johnny Come Latelies singing the Chelsea
Dagger
Greenaway bellowing his old Zigger Zagger
Trying to entice the whole East Stand to sing
These are a few of my favourite things
John Sitton and Bobby Iles and Micky Nutton
Lee Frost and Dennis Rofe and wee Ian Britton
Remembered fondly for winning nothing
These are a few of my favourite things
Ben Sherman shirts with the button down
collars
Stone Island coats costing hundreds of dollars
Wedge haircuts, Pringles and gold sovereign rings
These are a few of my favourite things
Wilkins and Wisey with wonderful passes
Fans waving celery at girls and their arses
Shouting abuse at G. Poll from Tring
These are a few of my favourite things
Matthew Harding and Shed End they come in
their masses,
While East Stand and West Stand still need singing classes,
But when all in full voice its a beautiful thing,
These are a few of my favourite things...
Bobble hats and rosettes, and those wooden noise makers,
Getting final scores only from late evening papers,
Pocket money in barrels for that "Save the Bridge" thing,
These are a few of my favourite things...
Jose Mourinho from the dugout he dashes,
And with all the officials he'll likely have clashes,
But in front of the press it's a wink and a grin,
These are a few of my favourite things...
When the tea's cold,
When the crowds thin,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember to smile as I sing,
And then I don't feel, soooo baaaaad.
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