Leave a comment on verse 2 0
The Aussie lads had really got their heads inside the noose,
Their fans were quite disgruntled and were giving them abuse,
They tried their best to score a goal but ‘twasn’t any use,
It seemed as if the Japanese had cooked the Aussie goose.
But then the ageing Hiddinck let a young Tim Cahill loose
To make the Japanese defence look like a pregnant moose.
A draw? One all? The Japanese were suing for a truce,
But Cahill bagged another as the backs ran out of juice.
And when the third was slotted home, poor Zico’s face turned puce.
Fair dinkum to the Socceroos, as Sheila said to Bruce.
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
The Czechs know how to mark their man,
They do not bend or yield.
Nor do they practise hopeful punts
From one end of the field.
Their sterling work reaped dividends,
They had a yen for goals.
They played the game with lots of cents
Unlike the poor old Poles.
The hapless Yanks weren’t worth a dime,
They got a proper trouncing.
The joyous Czechs thus banked the points
To leave supporters bouncing.
Leave a comment on verse 6 0
They play with panache
And such free-flowing movement.
They sure cut a dash –
Not much room for improvement.
The Ghanaians tried –
The Azurri were stronger,
In full flowing tide
As the evening got longer.
Perhaps, just perhaps,
They could well end up winners
They make other chaps
Look like clumsy beginners.
If only they’d stop
All the messing and acting.
Give the diving the chop,
For it’s far too distracting.
When they go to ground
It eternally rankles
That they roll around
Clutching onto their ankles.