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Juste (sic) Making Comparisons.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Endless tales of mad chicanery
Drunken injured louts who fight
I’m not talking of fans like you and me
But primed athletes out on a night.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 I hear the news on the latest deals
And the riches that they’ll gain
As agents wind us up with their spiel
Of “My poor man is but a slave”.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 I know wayback t’was a different game
Them days of baggy shorts and brylcreem
But I’d give all to have been Juste Fontaine,
To have plyed my trade at Rheims.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 As a mere enfant from Marrakesh
Who made his home in mainland France
Injured at twenty seven, and forced to retire
His tally scored still stands.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Up alongside Raymond Kopa
France were c’est formidable
I see so called idols playing today
Only fit to grace a card school.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Thirteen goals in one World Cup finals
That’s not too bad, I can hear you say
And those who aspire to wind up in jail
Will they peak like Juste Fontaine?

3

Notes

Those Were The Days My Friend. With apoligies to Mary Hopkins.

When we’d Hovis for us tea, and Association Football was a…..sport, remember that word?

peace

kev

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/juste-sic-making-comparisons/