Leave a comment on verse 2 0
Alas, poor Poulsen; I knew him Horatio –
He’d strength and skill in equal ratio.
A thousandfold, the crossed ball flew
In front of goal with danger true
And every time in his career,
His sturdy skull would knock it clear.
Save that one time in Soccer City
In a faux pas far from pretty,
When a crossed ball from van Persie
Showed that God has little mercy.
Alas, poor Poulsen, though he tried
To head it out both far and wide,
Fate thrust blindly like a dagger,
Caused the ball to slew off Agger
And bobble in inside the post
With Sorensen a deathly ghost.
See now, how the jawbone grins
Atoning for this sin of sins.
Leave a comment on verse 9 0
Conditions of course were quite slippy
But the Italians were lukewarm and drippy.
There wasn’t much blending
Or classy defending,
Which caused many problems for Lippi.