Millions lost that can't be found
Thousands more are running ‘round
Uncertainty on training grounds
Where silence is the sound.
You kissed the badge last game you played
The axe is poised with sharpened blade
Redundancies, percentage paid
It's the Rangers' Cavalcade.
Hypocrisy's so hard to hide
Where's your heart and where's your pride
Whyte's ruled unfit to run your side
Is that because he lied? !
Sir David's writing out his will
That man was just your bitter pill
Will more lies hide in truths he spills
The axe falls for the kill.
Into the jaws of death you leapt
Hell's fire dried the tears you wept
Your last two owners so inept
It's so hard to accept.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Millions lost that can't be found Thousands more are running round Uncertainty on training grounds Where silence is the sound. GREAT WRITE. A NICE POEM