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Michael Zorc

Twas The Night Before Beta - A Football Manager Poem

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Twas The Night Before Beta

'Twas the night before Beta, when all through the house
Not a computer was stirring, not even it's mouse;
The laptops were dusted by the kitchen with care,
In hopes that Sir Jacobson soon would be there;

The gamers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-daddys danced in their heads;
And FM16 now reaching it's cap,
Was retired for good with a tearful wee clap,

When browsing the forum there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the laptop it felt like a dream,
Tore open the screen lid and loaded up Steam.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an excitable Miles, with a SI volunteer,

With an original Collyer, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it wasn't a trick.
More rapid than eagles both uploaded the game,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Jose! now, Arsene! now, Carlo Mazzone!
On, Slaven! on Josep! and, old Trapattoni!
Springing up off their bench! organising their wall!
Now clear away! clear away! clear away ball!"

The players protest before the referee's eye,
When they formed up an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the ten-yards the official he drew,
With a can full of spray, twas a feature anew.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard Steam reboot
The loading and pausing with volume on mute.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Sir Jacobson came with a bound.

He was dressed up like Watford, kit from head to his foot,
But his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of code he had flung from his back,
And he worked with the Collyer just to open his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His new FM features drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled the game like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly SI elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had no bugs to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Activating the game; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

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1 minute ago, Welshace said:

Do you mean Dylan Thomas?

Did he use rhymes?

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Doffs cap. 

Quality work sir. 

I shall be reading this to my seven year old before she goes to bed. It's miles (sic) better than the original. 

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