The stands are full of eager fans
Who say, we're paid too much money!
But if they would put our suits on,
They'd find football isn't funny.
Twenty-two men and five referees
Chasing a pigskin, air filled ball.
Mashing and bashing all the way,
Till the striped shirts whistle their call.
All the generals on the sideline
Are waging their athletic war.
And the letters in the words they use,
Never amount to more than four.
There's no substitute for winning
And no excuse for losing.
Though after games; when we can't sleep,
It's because of all the bruising.
Tom Zart