An Ode To Football

Ah, football!
The glorious sport.
Jocks and their straps,
And all that sort.

Satellite dish,
And 60 inch screens.
The mortgage to bookies,
The death of our dreams.

The dash for the 40,
The 30, the 10,
Dance in the end zone,
Then start it again.

The wife's in the kitchen,
To get some more beer.
Back she comes naked,
The better to cheer.

And now its forgotten,
The score and the game.
Till 9 o'clock Monday,
And more of the same.

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(Is ode French for smelly poem?)

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