Resplendent in their black and white,
And luminescent in the night,
The matadors are in the fray,
Commanding on their field of play.
The Bull they fight is big, but slow,
The weight of history in tow,
An early jewelled rapier blow,
A fatal wound, thrust straight and low.
It brings the beast to fiery rage,
Quite unbefitting of the stage,
Baselli sent back to his cage,
The matadors can earn their wage.
And so begins the death procession,
Dybala, Matuidi, easy possession,
Rapid play, a slick concession,
Allegri’s men show full expression.
The Bull is wounded, bleeding out,
Each blow removes a little doubt,
And though Belotti screams and shouts,
There’s nothing he can bring about.
The banners flutter black and white,
They always do on such a night,
And all were blessed to see the sight,
Juventus slew the Bull tonight.
