Except for the on-something Tigers,
with 5 games to go to the finals,
the teams in the 8
at the top of the table
so fear the clout
of the recovering Crows
that they're conspiring
to keep them out.
'Caw, caw, caw *, ' caw the Crows.
* 'Next year awaits.
Fully recovered
and out of the lowly tens,
we'll do you from high in the eights.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem. My team is the Crows.++10