Brazil 1 Netherlands 2 (Quarter Finals)
Oranjes and lemons
with delirium tremens.
A bottle of vino,
said a broken Robinho.
A think I’ll have cider,
shouted out Wesley Sneijder.
piped up Felipe Melo.
Some beer, dark and strong,
cried a joyous de Jong.
Just show me the bar,
mourned Julio Cesar.
A red, then a white,
said the blond-haired Dirk Kuyt.
A Spanish firecracker,
hollered Maicon and Kaka.
Here comes the prize of a match against Ghana.
Here comes a skin and it’s made of banana.
Ghana 1 Uruguay 1 (Uruguay win 4-2 on penalties
When a country, full of hope, projects
Its dreams upon the national football side,
It often stirs up negative effects.
In penalties, the player oft elects
To blast it – sometimes high and sometimes wide –
Unlike the man that carefully directs.
Imagine, then, the pressure that collects
And builds and grows, fomenting deep inside
When one entire continent expects.
In penalties, that pressure, one suspects,
Was strong enough to staunch the Ghana tide,
Instilling fear in frozen intellects.
Shaping destiny, great architects
Show strength that otherwise might be defied
Whene’er the fear of failure interjects.
Later, when the analyst dissects
The contributing factors thus applied,
He’ll cite the weight a continent projects
When everyone in Africa expects.