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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Semifinals won by each The day of the finals is said Boasting begins by the two groups Or supporters Two weeks to the march Hummers for mansions Cadillacs for damsels One billion for one billion Any price for any price The day of match Boasting uproars All relying on the specials Skills of theirs players If a goal down He becomes angry Blaming the referee And shouting on the betee If two goals down He becomes sober His eyes red He will sojourn on His chair. It is then He remembers God But he knows God Supports not Or he will go outside The television scenery There he begins meditation On how much he might, No, on how much He will lose If his teams scores one Then he begins to concentrate With his chest beating Like a CD on bass boost Two, Two? He will jump High, off his shirt and slam Himself on the bare floor If they tell him he did that He will never believe it If the team loses he will Cry, cry as if he had lost his Mum, he will release his Tie to chest level Then he will walk home Gently and soberly The next day he will Not want to hear about The match he will tell you “ I hate football, off that T.V” If it is a radio He slams it on the floor If he wins he will Go with his prize To a beer parlour, order Drinks for people both friends And enemies about fifty, Boasts more and more Till he realizes the next day Had come. He continues To spend the money uselessly Until he gets empty Then calls himself An imbecile. But he Will wait for another March for him to bet There is a well-known fact Betting is another name for luck.
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