To leave unrecognised, the stranger in the rain
His dreams unrealised, the stranger in the rain.
He stands humbled in the Parthenopean storm
Cheeks damp from tears he's cried, the stranger in the rain.
Those festive colours the yellow-red hold no cheer
A job by no one prized, that stranger in the rain.
He relied on loan signings, gifts from Udine
Short term he specialised, the stranger in the rain.
Looks back at Zeman let loose with his charge of old
By presidents chastised, the stranger in the rain.
He dreams of lacing up his boots again for Rome
Each loss he's penalised, the stranger in the rain.
*This poem is from the future, Eusebio Di Francesco has not been sacked (yet) and it has only proved that the ghazal form is of little use when it comes to satirical football poetry, who knew?
