F.4 Poem - Boys
The World’s Best by John Foster

My dad’s the world’s best,
He’s a football referee.
He referees internationals
From a seat on our settee.

An hour before the kick-off
He gets changed into his kit.
He then inspects the room
And tells us where to sit.

As we watch the pre-match build-up,
He waits beside the door,
Until the teams come out
Then he strides across the floor.

He stands to attention
While the national anthems play,
Then takes his seat on the settee
As the game gets underway.

His eagle eyes spot every foul
The opposition makes.
He’s very quick to point out
The real ref’s mistakes.

He won’t stand for any nonsense.
On dissent he’s very hard.
If we challenge his decisions,
He shows us a red card.

But sometimes he forgets
His self-appointed role
By letting out mighty roar
When England score a goal.