With the heart of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he truly graced ‘The Beautiful Game’:
subtle feints, or a dip
of a shoulder or hip,
to evade the lunge that maims.

With the guile of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he could conjure mighty dread:
sudden spurts, or a spin,
swerving outside or in …
… opposition left for dead.

With the grit of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he would never yield an inch:
standing toe to toe
with a brutal foe,
he was never known to flinch.

With the pace of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he could never be pinned down:
breaking Nature’s laws,
like a primal force,
turning Physics upside down.

With the mane of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he was never too hard to spot:
darting here and there
with that flaming hair …
… and the odd wee loss of plot!

With the pride of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he would always do us proud:
in domestic toil
and on foreign soil,
genius marked him from the crowd.

With the heart of a lion,
a Lisbon Lion,
he faced down the final foe:
“Death, where is thy sting?”
cried ‘The Lord of the Wing’ …
… we were stung to see him go.

Copyright 25thMay1967, January 2011

[podcast]http://www.25thmay1967.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/The_Heart_Of_A_Lion.mp3[/podcast]