New Beesotted contributor, Jem Rampling, shares his Brentford poetry in motion:
Game One: Arsenal (h) 

 

The Friday night lights for our Premier League bow

New GP is rocking, the atmosphere, wow!

Vibrations, ovations, capacity crowd

With “Fulham Get Battered” and “Hey Jude” sung loud.

 

Arteta and Arsenal would open our season

And we could be chipper for very good reason

As illness had ravaged the Arsenal pack,

Depriving Arteta his potent attack.

 

The visitors start at a reasonable rate,

Hold onto the ball but don’t really create

Until gradually into the game come the hosts,

Mbeumo runs through but he strikes the near post.

 

Soon Arsenal’s defence will succumb to the hustle

When Canos scores first with a shot full of muscle,

He runs to the South Stand, slides on his knees,

Then Sergi the Killer is smothered in Bees.

 

The new boys on top now, the tempo intense

And the visitors find no way through our defence.

The midfield is pressing, there’s nowhere to go

They’re negating the tricks of Emile Smith Rowe.

 

And as for the forwards, creative and busy,

Bryan Mbeumo’s made Ben White go dizzy.

It’s almost a second, the ball is hooked wide

They’re looking so dangerous when Bryan cuts inside.

 

The second half now, Arsenal threaten through Tierney,

But Toney has realised “They’re starting to fear me

Janelt and Onyeke supporting the press

Until Arsenal concede under Brentford’s duress.

 

A throw from the left and a keeper obstructed,

A static defence and a stadium erupted.

A comfortable lead, but just time for a save

From the Brentford custodian, dependable Dave.

 

Full time, its two nil, our first win in the bank

And a heartening glance between Woody and Frank.

The players look sharp but the fans are fatigued

And for just one night only, we’re top of the league!

 

Doctor Jem