Wemmmmmberrrrrleee,

It was the shout of the senior yard,

a dinner time kick-about

for those not entrenched in the arms

of the kissable lips

of the girl they had fancied

since she started wearing tight

T-shirts with movie slogans

imprinted upon it, all designed to catch the eye.

 

One goal and you were through

to the next round, tactics

playing the part, hand close by

to the keeper, ready to stab home

a winner and much to the despair