Thursday, November 8, 2007

Zinedine, Me Old Mate

Zinedine, me old mate, would you not reconsider?
Are you sure your decision can really hold water?
You’re now coming out of retirement amid a
Great fanfare of praise from the Gallic supporter.
But comebacks are rarely, if ever, successful,
The pressure is on, expectation is stressful.
Do you think you’re still fit enough, hungry and lean?
Oh enjoy your retirement, my dear Zinedine.

Zinedine, me old mate, would you not think again?
Whose place will you take when you’re picked for Les Bleus?
Will a young lad be scarred by emotional pain
If you don’t keep your word and bid World Cups adieu?
Look into your heart, and be honest and truthful,
The World stage needs talent that’s vibrant and youthful.
Just play for Madrid and forget the French scene.
You’ve earned your retirement, my dear Zinedine.

Zinedine, me old mate, do the scars take long healing?
Oh please don’t make one of life’s biggest mistakes.
Push away that insistent, but ludicrous, feeling
That in your old age, you’ve still got what it takes.
Are you tired, stiff and sore? Do your muscles ache daily?
Do you swap war-wound stories with Claude Makelele?
Come on now, let’s face it, you’re not Gary Breen,
So stay in retirement, my dear Zinedine.

Zinedine, me old mate, you’re a legend in France,
Like Maurice Chevalier and Danny la Rue.
Why risk the acclaim on the very off-chance
That maybe, just maybe, your country needs you?
So if you have plans to play Ireland this Autumn,
Perhaps ‘twould be best if you chose to abort ‘em.
Do you relish the prospect of facing Roy Keane?
Coming out of retirement
Is not a requirement,
So remain in retirement, my dear Zinedine.

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