I got drunk and I went to bed, forgot
To write my daily diary, it seems
There's nothing worse than drink, makes me omit
My highest calling, my loftiest themes
My daily sonnet, source of self-esteem
It's not that I expected victory
Although optimism cautiously beamed
But had England not lost the penalty
Shoot-out against the Blues of Italy
Their Pyrrhic gain would have been to get shot
By German marksmen, goal-hungry machines
In stark contrast to poor short fat Rooney
Who without help from mates at United
Once again proved no thespian of dreams
No comments:
Post a Comment