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George Best. 1946-2005.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The piper plays the lament as his
coffin arrives on homeland soil.
Sent from the country where he
mesmerised and thrilled so many people.
On muddied heap he danced his jig
this Irish imp with laughing eyes.
Slight of frame will o’ the wisp
who took the kicks and rode the tackles.
Alas his ravaged body has come home
for us to pay homage and remember.
Now heaven is weeping as thousands
line the route to pay last respects.
A Belfast boy who united a country
to forget for a fleeting moment in time.
Now he is at peace upon the hill
laid next to his mother all is still.
For who are we to cast a stone
when we all have faults of our own.
God bless George.

1

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/george-best-1946-2005-2/