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Ruddock and Cleopatra

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “The barge he sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water, the poop was beaten gold,
Purple to the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke,
And the sails were his own Ruddock’s shorts,
For all smaller pairs just broke.”

Notes

Well done those shorts – the Daily Telegraph reporter likened Ruddock’s goal scoring debut celebration to an ape’s mating ritual.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/ruddock-and-cleopatra/