Football Poets

World Cup 2010 – Day 15

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Brazil 0 Portugal 0 (Group G)

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Both teams say they qualified
And that is all that counts,
But I would not be mollified
And roundly would denounce
These teams of Hillman Hunters
And not Mercedez Benz,
Who cheated all the punters
And lost a lot of friends.
Brazil were most unsporting,
As were the Portuguese,
From now, I’ll be supporting
Anyone but these.

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Ivory Coast 3 North Korea 0 (Group G)

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The happiest man in Africa,
Although his team were out,
Dancing on the terraces
And wriggling about.
He wore a pair of glasses,
He was baldy as a coot,
The happiest man in Africa,
Cos he got Drogba’s boot.

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The Elephants had won the match
In Nelspruit’s brand new dome,
But it was tinged with sadness for
The lads were going home.
But one man was ecstatic,
A man far from hirsute,
The happiest man in Africa,
Cos he got Drogba’s boot.

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 When the match was over,
Drogba came and bowed.
He took his football boots off and
He threw them in the crowd.
The hairless man went after it,
The crowd in hot pursuit.
He held it high up to the sky
The mighty Drogba’s boot.

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 I wonder what he’ll do with it
When he arrives back home.
Will he mount it in a glass case,
This man that needs no comb?
He could make a lot of money
If reasonably astute,
The happiest man in Africa,
Who garnered Drogba’s boot.

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Chile 1 Spain 2 (Group H)

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Xabi, Iniesta, Villa, Alonso,
macho matadors that perform to the crowd,
slickly sidestepping the charging bulls
that try to batter them into submission.
Flourishing red capes, they draw
out their cumbersome opponents,
tease them with a flicker and a shudder,
and then plant the knife
in between the brawny, sweaty shoulders.
The roar of the wide-eyed boys,
the chatter of the castanets,
the nod of the head from the black-clad senorita,
fluid and exciting,
sexy football.

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Strange how their manager
looks like the bloke down the parcel office.

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Honduras 0 Switzerland 0 (Group H)

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 From Central America they flew
Thousands of miles through the blue,
Cross ocean and land and more ocean,
Many hours in a forwardly motion.
They landed at last in the Cape,
Pretty tired and quite out of shape.
But there was no time for a rest,
They had to train hard like the best.
So day after day they prepared,
Training as hard as they dared.
First of all, they came up against Chile,
Not a game to be dainty and frilly,
They sweated and panted and ran
And gave everything, to a man.
The next match they played against Spain,
They battled and fought through the pain.
Ninety minutes of blood, sweat and tears,
While constantly changing the gears.
Then, facing the Swiss at the end,
Really pushing themselves to defend.
Though it seemed like they played with assurance,
It was really a test of Hondurans.

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