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A Bad Injury

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 An old style centre forward, he was powerful and fearless,
Mobile to the nth degree, though often dry and cheerless,
His right foot shot was fiercer than that of Hotshot Hamish,
His left was not that far behind – ‘twas more or less the same-ish.
Faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than an ox,
These assets helped him beat defenders in or near the box.
He timed his leaps immaculately and scored a lot of headers,
Of course, in time, opposing centre backs did come to dread us.
He was never, ever injured [though he’d once a nasty cough]
Until the day he took a fall, and both his legs fell off.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/a-bad-injury/