I don't understand,
Men running around,
In little short pants,
On the grass covered ground.
Kicking around a little round sphere,
In cow pastures and fields,
It just brings me to tears,
At the end of the game, one point is the yield.
What a bunch of lunatics,
these cretans must be.
All the fans carry sticks,
to beat each other, and the referee.
Not much of a game,
So what's all the fuss?
So if it's all the same,
Ship them out on a bus.
9/5/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting write it made me smile :) Nice light hearted poem and I at times have to agree. I am one of those Referees and have coached for many years lol. Thank you for sharing.