Ruddock and Cleopatra

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 “The barge he sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water, the poop was beaten gold,
Purple to the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke,
And the sails were his own Ruddock’s shorts,
For all smaller pairs just broke.”


Well done those shorts – the Daily Telegraph reporter likened Ruddock’s goal scoring debut celebration to an ape’s mating ritual.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/ruddock-and-cleopatra/