Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.116.62.169

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

It was a Sunday cherry picker 
Saints were coming not to bicker 
We will take a few 
Then on cue
Change them to
A special wine 
And have a nice time 
Mr. Bourne he did listen 
Dreaming of a fantasy mission 
Catching the hive 
And staying alive 
Missing St Mary 
Saints knew this was not going carry 
Mr. Bourne’s mouth 
Was heading south 
Before the first forty five 
One went in, no lie 
“This is not red,” 
Mr. Bourne said 
Thinking they were playing with his head 
“And I am not dead.” 
Looking to still get a point 
Mr. Bourne kept himself in the joint 
Until the final ticks 
And the Saints dropped the kick 
A shot they could not defend 
At the very end 
Adams gave it his best rib 
Into the goal resting inside the nylon crib 
Gold sands 
Will be in relegation hands 
Saying goodbye to the glitz and glamour 
Sealing the high profile coffin using a hammer 
Foxes headed to see the Lily in White 
Needing something to stay in the top four team fight 
Champions League fit was feeling right 
Along came an honest test 
Seeing if Foxes had anything to confess 
Very early Foxes were a mess 
Delivering the ball to the wrong address 
Later on there was two from Kane 
A double dip as per his fame 
No one really had a complain 
It was the final scoring in the game 
Foxes still tied with the manuel Devils 
For extra matches on an International tournament level 
Noted there are two 
Left for Man U 
While Foxes have another against, you know who

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required