The Matadors (Part I) Poem by Nick Hilton

Young men of Madrid,
Of Sevilla, Catalonia,
Zaragoza,
You are the Matadors,
You will wear with honour,
The bright stripes,
Of our noble art,
You will with feet,
Now quick and nimble,
Dance with the beast,
Until its destruction,
You are the standard bearers,
For out persecuted life,
Then with pribe,
Walk out there,
The chalky sand around your feet,
And fight the beast,
And let your ribbon fly,
And soon the beast will lye,
Defeated by you,
You lions,
You men of valour,
You Matadors.