My Poem

Their once was a bald jock called Kean,
no hair on his head no fringe to be seen.
He woke up one morning and thought i know what,
i'll go and p__s off that Blackburn lot.

He turned up and seen a rather large man,
then stabbed in the back our very own big Sam.
The Indians whopped and shouted for more,
so Kean told the world "we'll finish top 4"

That was the season that's been and went,
the promise of funds but no Darren Bent,
what are they doing to our beloved club,
they couldn't run a p__s up in a pub.

Our owners look like they should be in p&rn ,
meanwhile other fans keep pouring the scorn,
Kean keeps saying he'll turn it around,
but he's nothing but a clucking clown.

The roll of the club is the hub of the town,
But Venky's get rid of Kean before we are down!
The man that we need is someone like Hughes,
just do the right thing or suffer the boo's.

For some reason they think super Kean is the man,
well what would i know am just a football fan!

That is all!