The Dark Trojan Horse
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Upon the Greeks, I forecast doom in three gigantic portions,
But now their stature has attained Olympian proportions.
Few had deemed this great Hellenic odyssey prophetic,
Yet still, I’m guilty with the rest and most apollo-getic.
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They bore no gifts when playing both the Portuguese and Spain,
Defensively quite Spartan, as the French found to their pain.
Their Herculean efforts have been tangible and real,
And teams have found their workrate is a large Achilles heel.
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They don’t Plato-tal football, and they don’t go out to please,
Though many soccer wives regard their brand of Soccer a tease.
Creating Pliny of chances, their advancement’s been dramatic,
And pundits who dismiss them now are somewhat Hippocratic.
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Their solitary forward has done Trojan work alone,
His Zeus of balls has been an education on its own.
They’ll all go Homer hero, reputations still intact,
And Herr Rehhagel, unlike Carthage, will not end up sacked.
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