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A Late Summer’s Night Dream

Stuart Butler

Thursday, September 6th, 2001

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Sven: “How now, Spirit? Whither wander you?”
Beckham: “Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
Swifter than the moon’s sphere;
And I serve you Wizard Sven,
To gild the floodlights up above the glen,
Bobby Robson, he, your pensioner be,
In his grey hair gold spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
And Michael Owen is our saviour.
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in Victoria’s ear.”

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/a-late-summers-night-dream/