King Oz
¶ 1
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He’d sniff out a goal
The way my pooch would sniff out a waylaid treat
And he’d do it in such a way
That would have everybody off their seat
¶ 2
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In passages of play, he’d wander
And then as if by magic, he’d pounce
The ball attached to his laces, as he skirted defenders & keepers
He’s the King we can’t renounce!
¶ 3
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And the hips, that shimmied
Reminded us all of Elvis in his prime
The sideburns, the looks, the image, the finish
All of it sublime
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