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Leaning down to gather up the sphere
By hordes of baying Blues assembled near
I wonder what Henry, the French ace thought of us?
Poised to take a corner kick
He stood confused at accurately being hit,
By a hail of celery stalks, bouncing off his coiffured nut?
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Us fans broke out a song we Loved to sing
The lauded French ace sporting a sheepish grin
Turned n smiled as celery rained down thin n thick
Though we didn’t mean French Bonhomme no harm
He exuded charm, and a modicum of calm
Shrugged his shoulders, hoofing in the corner kick.
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Poignant moments appear now and again
Like a Walsall night stood sopping in the rain
Blinding memories to truly pass the test a time
I remember quelle surprise on Henry’s boat,
“Celery, celery”, reverberating in my throat
Like t’was yesterday, and so worthy of a rhyme!