Boring Boring Donkeys
They couldn’t be arsed to win the game,
And neither could the other team –
They huffed and puffed, yet both ran out of steam.
The goals were few, the highlights same,
As no-one risked a probing lob –
Or knuckle down to do their bloody job.
“Winning is all that matters, though.”
They glumly would to explain,
As they stumbled through the motions once again.
They kicked-off from the very go
For penalties to come
The losers’ lottery for teams who put the hum in drum.
Now me, were I their referee,
The clock would be ignored –
I wouldn’t let them leave the pitch until a goal was scored.
I wouldn’t blow for time, you see,
They’d have to carry on all day –
Until they got the message that they’d have to earn their pay.
Rhyming Couplets 