The skaters glide across the ice,
Perform
a triple axel, twice!
But
sometimes fall and pay the price;
I
don’t know how they do it.
For
if a slip is somehow made,
Perhaps
by tripping on a blade,
A
beaming face is still displayed
As
if they never knew it.
Until
the point the music ends
When
each performer comprehends
He’ll
earn no medal dividends
Because
he somehow blew it.
No comments:
Post a Comment