Oh 'Arry! my 'Arry! Your time with us is done;
So let's think back on times we had and ev'ry time we won;
Back when you came to White Hart Lane, our Spurs were in a pickle,
In last in Prem, you pulled us up and only spent a nickel.
But O Crouch! Crouch! Crouch!
O that goal your giant hit
That gave Spurs those Europe nights
Ne'er shall I forget.
O 'Arry! my 'Arry! You led us to new heights;
To beat that mighty Inter, knock out arrogant Milan,
That Bale hat trick and Rose's hit were sights that seemed so, so right,
Even that Madrid beating seemed something you could build upon.
Then 'Arry! dear Redknapp!
Your team, they lost their way,
They missed out on more glory nights,
And with them the big pay.
My 'Arry your eyes did wander to posts that seemed more smart,
And 'cause of that Spurs faltered and wasted their great start.
Another year without a trophy, no Europe to boot,
Now your players may just leave; who will we have for to root?
Shame, O Lane, such talent wasted,
Gunners not even bested,
O 'Arry, you had to go,
But your time we will remember so.
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