Stop all the clocks, cut of the telephone,
Prevent Nick Poweel from going to Hull on loan,
Silence The Mirror, Mail, Express and Sun,
Bring up the yellow bar, for the deal is done.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead,
scribbling on the sky the message ´He´s not at red´
Let United spout guff about spending 60m and above,
whilst Big Dave weep into each lonely glove.
He was my North, my South, My east and West,
My every tweet and pin on Pinterest,
My noon, my mignight, my talk, my song;
I thought he´d slot in quite nicely beside Carrick: I was wrong.
Tomorrow´s paper aren´t wanted now: put them all away.
Forget midfield, let´s sign Miles Kane and Garay;
Bring Scholes out of retirement and hide Ando´s food.
I feel like Giggsy´s sister-in-law: Thorougly screwed.
\\\"He got a cake but when it was Roberto Carlos´s birthday, the president of Anzhi gave him a Bugatti.
\\\"I don´t expect City to present Yaya with a Bugatti, we only asked that they shook his hand and said ´we congratulate you´.