Every fan down in Fanville liked soccer a lot,
But Sepp Blatter, who runs FIFA, most surely did not!
Sepp Blatter HATED soccer! The whole soccer season!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his salary was two figures too small.
Whatever the reason, he hated the fans,
With their endless suspicion and countless demands.
Staring down from his office with a Blattery frown,
At the warm lighted stadium below in their town.
For he knew every fan down in Fanville below,
Was printing off tickets and rearing to go.
“And they’re donning their jerseys!” he snarled with a sneer,
“Tomorrow’s the game! It’s practically here!”
Then he growled, as he twirled his Blattery ‘stache,
“I MUST find some bookies who’ll help fix the match!”
For tomorrow, he knew, was a critical game.
If he didn’t distract then he’d take all the blame!
And then! Oh, the votes! Oh, the votes!
Votes! Votes! Votes!
That’s the one thing he needed! The VOTES!
VOTES! VOTES! VOTES!
He knew if he wanted to get a fourth term
He would need a new scandal to make people squirm
And forget all about his despotic regime
And corrupt politicians he’d put on his team.
But the more Blatter thought of his reign as the king,
The more Blatter thought, “I can’t give up on this thing!”
“Why, I’ve sat on my throne for thirteen years now!”
“And I’d like thirteen more, but the question is HOW?”
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
BLATTER GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what to do!” Blatter laughed in his throat,
And he put on his necktie and buttoned his coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a Blattery surprise!”
“All I need to succeed is the Nobel Peace Prize!”
“First I’ll bring the World Cup to the Middle East,”
“Then I’ll get on my soapbox and talk about peace,”
“And I’ll airdrop some footballs on Palestine,”
“Til I’m honored in Sweden and the medal is mine!”
So he loaded his limo with bags full of cash,
All the money he’d laundered from FIFA’s own stash,
And he sought out the shadiest voters on Earth,
To ask them just how much their dignity’s worth.
“This is stop number one,” old Seppy boy hissed,
As he arrived in Tahiti with gold in his fist.
He walked to the front door, he rang the bell twice,
And said, barging in, “Ho ho ho! Name your price!”
Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room, and he left lots of presents!
Stock options! Hedge funds! And tainted investments!
Political favors and tax reassessments!
Then he traveled to Europe and southeastern Asia
Spreading cheer to constituents in Laos and Malaysia.
He visited voters in Ivory Coast,
And asked them what Africa wanted the most.
By the end of the night, he was certain he’d done it.
The votes tipped the scale. Yes, Qatar had won it!
Now it wasn’t much longer to FIFA’s election,
And Blatter had played all his cards to perfection.
“The fans are all gutted,” he was grinchishly humming,
“They’re finding out now that my fourth term is coming!”
Just a few shouts of fraud at his sole opposition,
Old Seppy had won his war of attrition!
And what happened then? Well…in Fanville they say,
Sepp Blatter’s large salary grew larger that day!
Yet hope was not lost, though the thought may seem strange.
After all, isn’t “The Grinch” a tale of change?
Every fan down in Fanville, the tall and the small,
Was waiting to see what would come of it all.
They perked up their ears as Sepp gave his mandate:
“Goal line technology…will just have to wait!”