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The ref gave out a yellow card, the home team were incensed,
They crowded round complaining, with their knuckles white and tensed.
The referee had lost his voice, which caused him great distress,
And so he played charades with them, entreating them to guess.
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The first, the third and fifth word, they each were quite the same,
“A small word!” they all shouted [well, the ones who knew the game]
“But” and “if” and “so” they called, as each essayed a guess,
Then someone shouted “A”, at which the referee mimed “yes.”
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“A something, a something, a something,” the players all looked puzzled,
The ref proceeded on, just like a dog that had been muzzled.
Second word. He turned his palms around, and by some luck,
The inside left remembered it, and promptly called out “Book!”
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For the fourth word, he stuck both his index fingers from his head,
And pretended to be charging at the outside right instead.
“Bull!” called out the centre back, and everybody clapped.
“A book, a bull, a something, then,” the right fullback recapped.
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The sixth word saw the referee then driving in a stake.
“Fence!” the keeper called out, “There cannot be a mistake.”
“Hang on a sec,” the right half said, “That doesn’t make much sense.
What in sweet tarnation is “A book, a bull, a fence?”