Brett Angell’s Winning Smile
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
All the pubs and trains and grounds I’ve sat in
Just to see him run like a demented chicken
The man can’t jump and he has no tricks
Just stumbles and stoops to obtain free-kicks.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
You’d think with his size he’d be categorised
As an old fashioned barnstorming centre-forward
But with hands on hips and those puppy dog eyes
He is better described as a quietly awkward.
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
But just when you feel an inner swell of derision
As you wonder how he made it to the first division
The ball’s in the net – and it’s down to big Brett
And he does it all the time, he’s as good as they get.
¶ 4
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
Whether shin-bone or knee-cap, or his fat back-side
a back-header or toe-poke – the goals are contrived
By a player with great spirit and a smile so wide
He’s a gentleman with attitude, humility and pride.
¶ 5
Leave a comment on verse 5 0
So sophisticates can stick with their Hasselbainks and Yorkes
Their opta-stats and light-pens and all their fancy talk
And I’ll stick to travelling my myriad beer-fueled miles
For the the Saddlers and the chance to glimpse
Brett Angell’s winning smile.
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1
0 Comments on verse 2
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 2
0 Comments on verse 3
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 3
0 Comments on verse 4
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 4
0 Comments on verse 5
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 5