1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Maradonna, Hand of God,
Lowest of the low.
What a nasty little sod.
Rotten so and so.
Foreigners won’t play the game,
Always have to cheat,
Latin climate is to blame,
Cannot take defeat.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Michael Owen, ninety eight,
Dives into the box,
He’s becoming truly great,
Bless his cotton socks!
Cheating is a foreign art,
But this is not the same,
For diving in the box is part
And parcel of the game.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/contrast/