'Twas the night before Christmas...again

Been busy recently so this one almost didn't make it on here in time. It's meant in jest (especially the last line...) Hope you enjoy it!

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land,
Not a creature was stirring, except Emre Can.
Playing for a team that doesn't often win,
And wondering, "For what have I let myself in?
They're overpriced, has-beens and Southampton leavers,
Youth teamers, come-latelies and underachievers."
There's Gerrard, Joe Allen and Adam Lallana,
And non-scorer Balotelli (whose brain's a banana).
Rodgers had better start getting inspired
Or the Yule log won't be the only thing fired.
But who am I to talk as an Arsenal supporter?
Our team and our gaffer are in serious hot water.
Our chance of the title is one in a million
And no one can help us, not even our Chilean.
Even Champs League seems like too much to ask.
And fourth place, for the fans, is no worthwhile task.
Wenger's board must know that top four's just no good.
When they hired him and said, "Come forth," he misunderstood.
Get rid of Nacho (in a vat full of cheese)
And get us a new defensive midfielder please.
Still, Spurs find themselves in a worse situation,
With Soldado's goal record a real humiliation
Their manager uninspiring and form downright c##p,
For Christmas, they might wish for Harry Redknapp...
We know they're in trouble, but we'll do them no favours.
For goodness sake, people, they're our hated neighbours!
But Manchester's teams, both red and blue,
Each have something to cheer about too.
Man City's results have kept Chelsea pushed hard
(Possibly with some bribes hidden inside Christmas cards).
But for now at least they've lost Kun Agüero,
So they'll need to look somewhere else for a hero.
While their Manchester neighbours, in their shirts of rouge,
With their manager who's as personable as Ebenezer Scrooge,
Have improved on their start and climbed up the table
(Although Rooney still can't shake his Shrek label)
But for now, the story is one of the Gunners,
With their championship push yet again a non runner.
As for the top spot, they are no way near it.
Arsene needs a visit from three Christmas spirits,
To guide and advise, and make things quite eerie,
And tell him the team's just no good with Flamini.
So off he retires, to bed in the night,
When the clock strikes one he awakes with a fright.
A visit from a ghost of a great long lost era,
An invincible captain named Patrick Vieira.
A giant on the football pitch that he bossed,
He shows our French gaffer what we had (and lost).
While Adrian Chiles, a bore through and through,
Is the ghost of the present when the clock strikes two,
Analysing why Arsenal always fail in the race,
All the while risking a punch in his face.
And when the bell tolls three, the future appears,
And the horror of it all brings Arsene to tears.
Years of skinflintery and blind penny pinching
And down the table Arsenal are inching.
We only beat teams if we've seen them on SpySat
And panic buy players we'd never look twice at.
Our lowballing methods have taken a toll,
Sol Campbell's come back, Brad Jones keeps our goal.
We get beaten like fish getting shot in a barrel,
Till eventually we crack and buy Andy Carroll!
"Enough!" says Arsene. "I'll fix my wrong ways!
Cheaping out in the market - it just never pays!
The fans pay a fortune, we owe them success,
We have basic problems we'll pay to address.
Let's challenge for honours, let's give it a bash!
Merry Christmas to all, now let's break out the cash!"