Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Highbury it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken, Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token, That dawn is near at hand,
For Wenger's Bane has awoken, And Gooners forth shall stand.
It should come as no surprise to any of you that the wizard Mithrandir, old enough to be distinctly discerning, has wed his allegiances to The Arsenal.
Three hundred lives of men he has walked this Earth. He is a servant of the Sacred Fire; wielder of the flame of Highbury.
He likes less than half of you half as much as you deserve.
He is Gandalf the Red, and he comes back to you now at the turning of the tide.
There are older and fouler things than foxes in the deep places of Leicestershire. To approach this journey like some Hobbit’s walking party would be folly. Alas, our riders were not on their guard. We swiftly took the bridge - the Alessar struck down the enemy’s fiendish outriders – but could not advance to the second hall.
“History became legend,
Legend became myth,
And by two and a half thousand yards, Steven Naismith was offside.”
History became legend,
Legend became myth
And for two and a half thousand years, the War Chest passed beyond all knowledge.
