Bobby Moore
¶ 1
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The white and the gold
The kings and the kings to be
Stepping onto the technicolour stage
To unharness the meticulous
And the miraculous
The supreme attacker
Like a surging meteor
Toward the peerless defender
Who with the timing of Olivier
Orchestrated his move with such clean
Precision that six and seven equalled
One moment of perfection
No snarling antagonism
No studded brutality
The grace and beauty
Defined and acknowledged
Two friends
Freeze framed
The King and The Emperor
Swapping shirts with dignity
Of such gestures
The best of what we ever are
And ever dream to be…
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