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Polly Glot is malade comme un parroquet

Stuart Butler

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2002

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Es ist ein drolliges spiel,
One moment you feel
Au-dessus de la lune,
Singing a victorious tune,
Mais, c’est un drole de jeu, comrades,
Un jeugo de mos mitades,
Briefly happy, but then comes sorrow,
Truly, enfermo como un loro.
But when you finally say
A la fin de la journee,
That you are heartbroken,
Because Man hat ihym eingebrochen,
Then just remember to
Follow football wisdom through
And prends chaque jeu comme il vient;
That’s good. Tres bien!
And when you feel hesitant
About your mum’s Christmas present,
The England bobble hat,
Not some rubbish tat,
It’s good to hear her say,
In a heartfelt way,
Le fiston a bien fait;
It puts you at your ease, so
Much nicer than No me gusto eso.

© Stuart Butler

Notes

Have a go at translating the cliches on the quiz at www.cbc-clcstudents.org.uk

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/polly-glot-is-malade-comme-un-parroquet/