Who Was That Masked Man?

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 With a swagger, he strode through the dressing room door,
His hat tilted over one eye.
His trenchcoat dripped puddles upon the tiled floor,
And the sheen glinted off his fat tie.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 “Where’s the stiff?” he demanded, as the players shrank back
And pointed beneath the far bench.
The dude moved some socks that were putrid and black,
Ignoring the terrible stench.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 There, in the recess, a ball was revealed –
It seemed pretty normal at first.
Then some of the more nervous footballers squealed –
The ball was deliberately burst!

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Amidst gasps of horror, the dude squatted down,
And ran his hand over the leather.
And then he turned round with a menacing frown,
His eyebrows knit closely together.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 “This ball has been murdered,” he uttered at last.
“Stabbed in a crime of some passion.
Has somebody here got a violent past?
Speak now, and I’ll show some compassion.”

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 When nobody moved, he just turned on his heel,
And marched to the dressing room door.
“Someone,” he said, “may attempt to conceal,
But I’ll be returning for more.”

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 With a flash, he was gone, the cigar smoke still trailing,
And everyone turned round in fright.
Some of them slumped, for their knees had been failing,
While others just stood, chalky white.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 “Who was that?” asked a young lad, and somebody sniggered,
Though nobody found it too funny.
“All right,” said the captain, “in case you’ve not figured,
That’s our new dead-ball specialist, sonny.”


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/who-was-that-masked-man/