Jack the Lad

A football you've followed the whole of your life, From centre to goal... and missing it twice. But this vice it seemed needed a rest, So it eyed your feet close and selected the left. The guilty from accounts was a bit of a prat, But he helped with the ambulance, so we'll give him that! A phone call you made, so calm and composed, None of your pain and worry did it disclose. In mud you lay for an hour instead, As the ambulance was rescued from the mud hence. Dosed up and examined you were retired to bed, Prepped for surgery and occasionally fed. Certainly fed up was what you became, With nothing to do and your ward so plain. But texts and e mails we received, To come and see you, and your boredom relieve. What fun we had making a fuss, With Bless ya's and How's and chocolate a must. Your tale you recounted many a time, To family and friends, but staying modest in mind. But now we leave you to recover, The football reality, for now just virtual, But as you adapt to the stairs and we tease you so, We're glad your ok, and love you really you know!!