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To Football, And All Who Sail In Her

How do I loathe you?
Counting.....one, two....
I loathe your strident noise,
Your great big hefty "boys",
I loathe the constant brawls,
The TV-conscious "falls",
I hate your silly fans,
Who scream and clap their hands,
Their stupid woollen gear
Worn round their neck and ears,
And when a match is lost,
Guess who pays the cost?
Don't be too surprised
To see wives with two black eyes!

Copyright © Beth Evans

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