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Skin Deep

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 My love’s fame has spread
Into many strange lands,
For her song is the call of the linnet.
Though I often did dread
That without those sweet glands,
My ardour would cease in a minute.
So I clasped her sweet head
In the cup of my hands,
To translate all the beauty within it,
And yea, my heart bled,
As I followed the strands,
For no love of sweet football was in it.

12

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/skin-deep/