Half man, half momentum:
Fergie keeps it moving -
Builds plenty of teams, and each season, renews them -

Any errant stars in his path?
He removes these;
Beckham, Ince, Keane, Ruud (and maybe Rooney):

This Glaswegian Caesar slays his own generals
Except Giggs and Scholes,
Who've the globe's biggest medal hauls:

He's given Liverpool a shove from their pedestal
And we thought he was finished; that's the greatest trick this devil pulled -
He was never heaven-sent, he was Govan-sent:

His reign has tripled that of Thatcher in government:
He's the proud bearer of knighthood and grudges
With the power to stretch added time as long as he covets?

?Will he retire?? -
(-This enquiry is rhetorical.)
If your play is diabolical

He's drying out your follicles:
So many trophies. And this has been his secret:
To sit tight when all other bums are squeaking.

King of soundbites,
High priest of the presser,
It seems he'll pace the touchline forever;

When the stars fade and our world comes to ruin -
There will still be Fergie
And the gum he is chewing.