Football Is Soccer Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The world calls it many names,
But the true game, it remains.
Football, they say, and soccer too,
The same sport, for me and you.

Others try, with clumsy might,
A mix of rugby, day and night.
They call it football, but it's not,
This imitation, falling flat.

Two thousand years, its roots run deep,
Ancient games, secrets to keep.
But England's fields, in days of old,
Gave us the game, brave and bold.

Most loved sport, across the land,
With players countless, close at hand.
Two hundred fifty million strong,
Where does this beautiful game belong?