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The Moving Ball

I’m a happy wife, married for years,

I really have it all,

Only one thing mars my absolute joy –

He watches the moving ball.

On the field or on the court,

He’ll watch the livelong day,

Until all the commentators are hoarse,

And the crowd has gone away.

“That was a foul!” or

“That was out!”

“Can’t you properly see?”

He often questions the parentage,

Of the unfortunate referee.

“What a goal!”

“What a kick!”

“What a classic pass!”

I am afraid that I’d rather watch

The growing of the grass.

Who do you want to win the cup?

Who do you think will win it?

Frankly I’ll say to my dear man,

I really don’t give a s**t.

Why is it that fully grown men

For the same ball need to reach?

I have a simple remedy –

Give them all a ball each!