Write a poem about man utd

rimaldo said:
manchester united, the proud home of the reds,
the same colour as the cards that casemiro collects.
our trophy count higher than pep on his meds,
willian punches the ball whilst silva objects.

klopp stands there and grins whilst antony spins,
eriksen’s heart stops and starts, whilst we’re played off the park,
we have more right-wingers than ukip; it’s the edl way,
wout falling over as de gea kicks the ball out of play.

old trafford is rotting, a carcass of old,
the pissers lathered in piss, the paint is all mold.
the glazers, they bleed us, for fun and for profit,
qataris or radcliffe? who knows, not me. feck it.
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Brings a tear to the eye.
 
Not sure if this will be approved. What the heck... Poem (pantun) in Malay language

1992 Tahun gemilang menang tiga
Sir Alex budi kamu akan selalu dikenang
Tapi sekarang Ten Hag Manager kita
Tiga tropi sah akan dimenang!
 
Our owners won't spend
When will Martial mend
As we're relying on Wout
Who up front will do nowt

I'll get back to it later
 
The phoney sheik and Sir Jim
One stepped out and the other stepped in
Behind the curtain other mystery bidders
In horse-head masks, who knows, maybe
Ghosts in the desert of migrant riggers

When the floodlights go off
And the sprinklers abate and when
The moon hides his face--
The ghosts of Old Trafford
Take their positions on the manicured turf

Awkward teases and bad jokes, youthful hopes
Seatbelts fastened, cabin lights out
Propellors threshing in the snow of
Frozen February fields that never will be reaped
Only the survivors will grow old

Between Devon Loch and the Rock of Gibraltar
The Champion Jockey lost the halter
Comic book villains with weird facial hair
Rose from the tunnels of the stock exchange
Under the illusion that this football club is theirs

As if a few million dollars can buy a dream thing
As if a logarithm can be designed
To harvest the frozen fields of München
As if the ghosts of Old Trafford can be marketed
And shared, by glassy boardroom passengers
Who never really cared

But United will never really belong to them
Nor to some phoney sheik or some banking consortium
Wout Weghorst had a dream last night
Of Georgie Best in a hotel room
Trying to persuade himself everthing was alright
'Where did it all go wrong?' he slurred.

All I want to think about today
Is not the trolls, and not the shills
It is the innocence that lingers still
Youthful faces in the stands
Watching pale with heads in hands
Earnest posters in the post-match discussion, asking

Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go right?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go right?

Goodnight.
 
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United are good
They don't play on mud
Because the grass is very green
The groundsmen keep it pristine

They don't always mow it
And I don't think they sow it
It comes ready rolled
Or so I've been told
 
Ronaldo was a great player
But a difficult personality
 
Sure, here is a poem about Manchester United:

Manchester United, a name that rings a bell,
A team that's known throughout the land,
With fans that love them dearly,
And a history that's grand.

They've won the Premier League more than any other team,
And they've captured the hearts of many,
With their passion and their drive,
And their never-say-die attitude.

So come on, Manchester United,
Let's show the world what you're made of,
Let's bring home the glory,
And make history once again.

We're the Red Devils, we're the best,
We'll never give up, we'll never rest,
We'll fight until the very end,
And we'll always come out on top.

We're the pride of Manchester,
We're the team that everyone loves to hate,
But we're also the team that everyone loves to watch,
Because we're always entertaining.

So come on, Manchester United,
Let's show the world what you're made of,
Let's bring home the glory,
And make history once again.
 
Feck you Glazers

Feck you, Glazers.
It's time to get out of United, Glazers.
What were you even doing there in the first place, Glazers?
You didn't even take over properly, Glazers.
Are you happy now, Glazers?
Feck you, Glazers.
 
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