Wenger’s legacy is fundamental. Free flowing, attacking football by a club with integrity and class.

The Arsenal FA Cup Ballad

Harried a great man,
thinking anyone can,

found ourselves in a Basque Dracula’s lair,
reached unfathomable depths of depair,

faced immeasurable pain,
had to complain,

a messiah came,
whose perfect hair had all the fame,

conquered the British south coast,
yet we didn’t boast,

Yorkshire next, in cold blood,
Henry the VI, in the mud,

Oil barons next,
we declared war after Arsene’s text,

Ball sprayed by a sharp scottish bloke,
for a Gabonese runner bespoke,

Ederson bucked,
but under his legs, it was tucked,

Into the promised land,
a contest, o so grand,

there was a worry called Anthony Taylor,
a former Arsenal player goaler,

Revenge for Baku on our mind,
had to reply in kind,

met fire with fire,
but we couldn’t match their American hire,

yet we didn’t lose hope,
Auba made Azpilcueta mope,

both teams in full flow, blow for blow,
situation for the blues got dire with their spanish and american high flyer,

the horrible ref had a change of heart,
gave a Chelsea a start,

Kovavic sent back to his box,
Arsenal played champagne football on the rocks,

Again, the man from Gabon,
brought in a new dawn,

chipped the ball,
ecstasy in every Islington hall,

handed Chelsea, their rump,
and we had our hands on the cup,

our fourteenth time,
greatest club in the world, we chime,

When Britain reeled from Brexit,
Victoria Concordia Crescit,

love in the air,
but Raul still at the chair,

for the next season, we countdown
I am one rhyme away from a breakdown.

Written by Baran Pradhan aka @BP_Gooner95

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