1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Hunched shoulders, too long sleeves clutched tight
In hand. Arm aloft, the extravagant his forte. Blonde,
Tousled hair – King, he was called and King he was.
For Scotland a true patriot, Aberdonian son travelled
South to dazzle at Huddersfield, thence to Manchester
And City. Goals flowed, a reputation made that bound
Him for Italy. To return home, a vital part of United’s
Recovery. His golden years; elusive, and deadly. He
Epitomised the Red Devils, a hero with the clinical
Touch. But he missed their finest hour, his injuries
Now a companion. Still, he could do his stuff, and he
Did – a lethal predator around the areas of maximum
Damage. Time moved on, a free transfer across the
City. How it rebounded on an April afternoon in ’74,
As his backheel begat relegation and riot; ever the Pro,
He’d done his work – at a numbing cost. But it’s the
Flamboyance we recall. Bicycle kicks, headers and
Flawless finishes his trademark. Lawman, the genial
Assassin – a supreme, undimmed talent of his time.
Bobby admired, George adored, but Denis was King.


Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/lawman/