UF Presents: Valentine's Day Love Poetry!

We hope you are enjoying today's special Valentine's Day festivities.

Although we have declared our undying love for Kickette, there is more where that came from...


FOR KICKETTE

Footie love we share
Handbags in our plot too
Us: dust-ups ends in red
You: Birkin bags in blue
For Valentines we choose you

--by the Fan's Attic


And, there's even more bad wonderful poetry below. After the jump you will see how our hearts overfloweth onto thyn keyboard to thee our poor, poor unsuspecting readers. Please try your hand in the comments, but trust us, the bar has been sent very high.


Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'd like to mark you tightly
And come in studs up too.

--Sven



AN ODE TO GAEL CLICHY:

A defensive master
although just a young pup
no one is faster
you always catch up.

I love thee Gael Clichy
even though I'm not gay
you in the back is just peachy
you save our arse day after day.

Remain a Gunner you must
playing at the Emirates
watching you I'm just
the guy who...

Never mind.

--by the NY Kid



AN ARSENAL HAIKU

Please, please, please Arsene
Sign some depth to the damn squad
And heal Rosicky

--by Precious Roy



ANOTHER ARSENAL HAIKU

I hate Arsenal
I fucking hate Arsenal
I hate Arsenal

--by Autoglass



Women like nagging.
Women are late.
Kick off's on time.
It's football thats great.

Football is honest
Football is true
I do love my football
except those c*nts in the blue

Its yellow and green.
that does it for me.
I do love my Norwich.
I'm sick you'll agree.

But City dont lie.
and they don't make you iron.
they just lose every weekend.
and leave you a crying.

--by Bigus



TO FERNANDO TORRES

Nando, Nando, Nando,
your goals are so sweet
Nando, Nando, Nando,
your hair can't be beat
Nando, Nando, Nando,
please win us th'EPL
Nando, Nando, Nando,
I'd follow you into hell

Torres, Torres, Torres,
Liverpool's number nine
Torres, Torres, Torres,
With us, you sure do shine.

Now score some f*cking goals against Man United.

--by Lingering Bursitis



Hucker hucker be
I love thee
Your pointy spikey hair flows. down the touchline it goes.
Your goals to games tally is fine. Like the finest of fine wines.
You are a wing man.
To me you are the king man.

--by Bigus



TO THE TUNE OF "WE'RE AN AMERICAN BAND"

Saturday morn at 7.30
Last night's drinking has got me in a haze
Fire up the computer
Searching for a feed as my eyes glaze
Hull City away to Pompey
I got to tell you it's my thing
Two teams in a 4-5-1
May sound dire, but it makes me sing

I'm an American fan
I'm an American fan
I'll watch about any match
Hope for a Spurs loss, natch
I'm an American fan

--by ü75



I wandered lonely as Robbie Keane
That floated on high o'er Anfield's 4-2-3-1
When all at once I saw a crowd
Celebrating another Gerrard goal.

Beside Stanley Park, beneath John Lennon Airport,
I packed my bags and fucked off back to Spurs.

--by Lingering Bursitis



My name is Robbie Keane.
I had a childhood dream.
To play for pool, I'm such a fool.
As dreams aint what they seem.

--by Bigus



The players stroll onto the pitch
We close our eyes and make this wish
Oh please, this match let there be
Not just one goal but two or three
The celebrations do begin
We hope our team will surely win
The whole time we never trailed
It finally ends, we have prevailed
We cheer and do our victory dance
On couches, wearing underpants

--by Spectator



And one more...

RED CARD: ODE TO GARY DOHERTY

I'm sorry ginger pele
For calling you a c*nt
I was listening on the radio,
They said you caught him blunt.

And then I saw the replay.
Your genius was punished.
Its Andy D'urso who's the c*nt
His face should be demolished.

So sorry ginger pele,
for judging you too quick.
I will not do it anymore.
"He's off!'... Ahh Grounds YOU PRICK!

--Bigus