NOT WATCHING BUT BROODING

[Chacun a son gout ... ]

I'm busy not watching the football.
This is taking a lot of my time.
It's an art-form, not watching the football.
It's the reason for writing this rhyme.
They tell me non-sports, such as I am,
Are missing the good things of life.
But all that I'm missing are bare-kneed chaps kissing,
The yelling, the screaming, the strife!

Now, while I'm not watching the football
I might paint a great work of art:
It would be just fine to be hung on the line
Just as Constable was with his cart.
And while I'm not watching the football
I could make up a taste-teasing wine:
Barefooted, I'd traipse in immense vats of grapes.
The result would be simply divine.

Why does the world gaze, all enraptured
As the rounds lumber on and then on?
As each muddy manoeuvre is captured,
I sit and I wish it was gone.
While not watching the ball, I gaze at the wall,
Which I find is of interest intense.
And I play my own games, whose particular aims
Have potential that's simply immense ...

It's a discipline, not watching the football,
And my training regime is most strict.
Eventually in the Olympics
It will have its own slot, I predict.
When the medals are given for winning
And the wild cheers resound, then behold!
The Press will all laud me, the Nation applaud me
As I stand there, accepting the Gold.

Then July at last comes upon us,
Oh, those soccer-free days! Oh, the menace!
What can I do to pass the time through?
That's it! I'm not watching the tennis!
Now, I don't mind if you watch the football:
I will switch on the screen, just for you.
But don't load me with scorn 'cos I find it a yawn.
Why don't you try not watching it too?
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