GreasyChipBeattie
Well-Known Member
Nigel came, then Nigel went, then Nigel came anew,
A grinning, cheery chappy with a cheery chappy view,
We all were so excited to see what he could do.
The season started down in Kent, the first of many wins,
But not for us, for Gillingham, our optimism thins,
“I didn’t think we played that bad” the cheery chappy grins.
“Fear not” says he “it’s not a sprint, we’ve many games to go,
I’ve done this job for many years, I’d like you all to know,
A season’s like our build up play, ponderous and slow”
Despite a win the next time out, and three more after that,
The style was uninspiring, in fact a little flat,
As Nigel seeks to give us hope, we start to smell a rat.
And so we hit September, as leaves begin to fall,
A home defeat to Bury, and Colchester an all,
A chance to make ourselves a force, pissed against the wall
October brings a little hope, with two wins out of three,
But then we show our colours for the whole wide world to see
All that is, except for cheery Nige, it seems to be.
“The lads are giving everything, we’re working on the blend,
We’ll look to strengthen where we can, we’ll get there in the end,
I won’t be rushed; I’ll only sign the one’s who’ll be my friend.
November came and went again with four draws and a loss,
And more of Smiley’s clever spin was all that came across,
But Nigel, through his rosy specs, could surely see this dross?
December saw an upturn, with four wins in a row,
Things were looking good now, but little did we know
The green shoots of recovery would, refuse point blank to grow
January came and went with chequebooks still intact,
And yet another window with the manager not backed,
The odds of auto places now, unfeasibly stacked.
February brought a trend of lose, win, lose, win, lose,
Boring football calling in a myriad of boos,
And thoughts now turned to failing Nige and who might fill his shoes.
So onto March, with play-off hopes now hanging by a thread,
With thoughts already turning to, next season instead,
When hopefully, at least our shirts might have a splash of red.
April, then, and finally we show promotion form,
But far too little, far too late, and still we don’t perform,
In such a way that might just mean that Nige can ride the storm.
So now we play the waiting game, while feeling quite perplexed,
Wondering if cheery Nige, will soon receive a text,
To tell him, “thanks, but no thanks Nige” before the shout of “NEXT”
A grinning, cheery chappy with a cheery chappy view,
We all were so excited to see what he could do.
The season started down in Kent, the first of many wins,
But not for us, for Gillingham, our optimism thins,
“I didn’t think we played that bad” the cheery chappy grins.
“Fear not” says he “it’s not a sprint, we’ve many games to go,
I’ve done this job for many years, I’d like you all to know,
A season’s like our build up play, ponderous and slow”
Despite a win the next time out, and three more after that,
The style was uninspiring, in fact a little flat,
As Nigel seeks to give us hope, we start to smell a rat.
And so we hit September, as leaves begin to fall,
A home defeat to Bury, and Colchester an all,
A chance to make ourselves a force, pissed against the wall
October brings a little hope, with two wins out of three,
But then we show our colours for the whole wide world to see
All that is, except for cheery Nige, it seems to be.
“The lads are giving everything, we’re working on the blend,
We’ll look to strengthen where we can, we’ll get there in the end,
I won’t be rushed; I’ll only sign the one’s who’ll be my friend.
November came and went again with four draws and a loss,
And more of Smiley’s clever spin was all that came across,
But Nigel, through his rosy specs, could surely see this dross?
December saw an upturn, with four wins in a row,
Things were looking good now, but little did we know
The green shoots of recovery would, refuse point blank to grow
January came and went with chequebooks still intact,
And yet another window with the manager not backed,
The odds of auto places now, unfeasibly stacked.
February brought a trend of lose, win, lose, win, lose,
Boring football calling in a myriad of boos,
And thoughts now turned to failing Nige and who might fill his shoes.
So onto March, with play-off hopes now hanging by a thread,
With thoughts already turning to, next season instead,
When hopefully, at least our shirts might have a splash of red.
April, then, and finally we show promotion form,
But far too little, far too late, and still we don’t perform,
In such a way that might just mean that Nige can ride the storm.
So now we play the waiting game, while feeling quite perplexed,
Wondering if cheery Nige, will soon receive a text,
To tell him, “thanks, but no thanks Nige” before the shout of “NEXT”
)
