With Apologies to Oliver Twist and everybody else.
Football, glorious football.
Don't care what it looks like -.
Burned! Underdone! Crude!
Don't care what those crooks like.
Just thinking of growing fat.-
Our senses go reeling.
One moment of knowing that
Full-up feeling from sitting on
Football, glorious football!
What wouldn't we give for
That extra bit more,
that's all that we should live for.
Why should we be fated
to do nothing but brood
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Comments about this poem (FOOTBALL by Fred Babbin )
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- Let not this earth be divided, gajanan mishra
- With situation, hasmukh amathalal
- Misery Loves Company, Bill Cantrell
- Hot Summer Tanka, Toshie Nohara
- No need to ask, gajanan mishra
- Truth, Tony Adah
- Walking the dog, Nassy Fesharaki
- Prince Charming, Electric Lady
- With promising words, hasmukh amathalal
- pray to me, tara mahdavi