He kicks a leather ball about;
Recalls old tales of wing and back,
The Villa's rush, the Rovers' rout;
Or lays a tanner to a pup
On Albion (not "perfidious") for the Cup.
He whistles down the day-long road,
And, when the chilly shadows fall
And heavier hangs the weary load,
Is he down-hearted? Not at all.
'Tis then he takes a light and airy