"Yours Pagey."
Yes, that was your catchphrase
Too often for my liking.

But when you cleared
The ball it stayed
Cleared.

Your passing
Though, was
Like your beard;
Patchy.

Now, sadly, you are passing
Out of the Vic,
Heading for the dirty Den.

You were
Quite good at that.
Heading.
Not passing.

So. Farewell then
Robert Page.

"Who's marking number 9?"
Yes, that was your
Softly spoken
Catchphrase.

You led us up to the Premiership
And you led us down again.

When the club turned
Over a new
Leaf. This
Page was part of the discarded
Volume of players.

An appendix to the squad.

Now, sadly
You will be a Blade,
Potentially a cause of accidents
Elsewhere.

So. Farewell then
Tommy Mooney.

Walking in a Mooney Wonderland.

Yes, that
Was your
Catchphrase.

You wore
Your collar up
And your heart on your sleeve;

That went a long way
With the fans.

Now, sadly, you
Will be walking
In a Trevor Francis wonderland.
If there is
Such a
Thing.

So. Farewell then
Clint Easton.

Go ahead punk make my day.

Yes, that
Was your
Catchphrase.

Now it seems you will be Delia's
Dish of the day.

Cooking slowly on a
Moderate heat,
We rarely saw you
Come to the
Boil.

So. Farewell then
Stevie Palmer.

You smoked marijuana.

Yes, that
Was your
Terrace anthem.

You brought a degree
Of calm to a sometimes
Frantic team,
As well as
A degree.

A man of letters
You wore every number
One year.

Now (like so many)
You will be trying to
Score
Around the Shepherd's Bush area.

So. Farewell then
Chris Day.
I kept a clean sheet at Anfield.

Yes, that
Was your
Catchphrase.

Well. They do say
Every dog
Has his day.

Yesterday
All your troubles seemed so far
Away.
It looked like you were here
To stay.

We all believed
In Chris Day.

Now, sadly
You are no longer
Our third way,
But will be stopping
Just off
The Westway.

So,
Farewell then,
Charlie Miller.
No longer our
Flour of Scotland.
Definitely whole meals,
Never self raising
(geddit?)

So
Farewell then
French bloke.
You always looked ill
But you made me feel good
Occasionally.

So
Farewell then
Darren Bazeley.
Riveting.
Rusting.
Inconsistency inherent.

So
Farewell then
Des Lynam.
Everyone's best mate at the Beeb.
My Dad's called Desmond too.
But he doesn't wear
A calm moustache.

So
Farewell then
Jimmy Floyd Hasselbank.
The Shipping Forecast
of the Premiership.
"60k. Weekly. Rising"

So
Farewell then
Nicholas Anelka.
Are you
German
In disguise?

So
Farewell then
Ronny Rosenthal.
The Rocket
That launched us
SKYwards,
Only to run out of
Steam
(Geddit?)

So
Farewell then
Alon Hazan.
Dreadlocks
You'll never have.
I'm sad.