Imaginative

We sat down facing the west As the sun lazily crawled behind the green hills Under the older than time mango tree We sat on rickety three legged stools. His face engulfed in mystery Stroking his grey mustache He gazed...

I will always blow the trumpet I will always shout glory glory Every wave that rocks the stadium I will encounter it with a Mexican wave I shall praise the dribble,passes and shots Ooh! Damn he hit the cross...