The pride, the honour, 2016 success
The laurels wrest.
The plaudits for this poacher,
Who'd made greatest game keeper!
Reformed, but now returned;
This Christmas card in festive shade,
Beating red brest robbing him of praise
The rose drained of its colour
Red blooded mist. The sweat now turned to tears:
What end to perfect year!
I remember my first pair of metal studded boots.
How they played the Pied Pipers most mesmeric of flutes
That magic and memories the sound stirs around
Footsteps on tarmac on my old school playground
A magnificent feeling with joy I abound
Matched mud on my knee caps with a resonating sound
Was I watched at all by a Twickenham crowd?
Each metallic step would they cheer out loud?
Alas not for me it's my imagination that matters
Each step was a symbol a symphonic clatter
Accompanied of course by some small school boy chatter!
Transforming those small steps now each mighty stride
Oh first rugby boots how they'd be my guide
From moulded boot boy to the moulding of men
To shape me to guide me, oh yes and then
It gave me the hope of playing U10
Those metal studs, bolt-like, seeming so small
But screwed in my boots made me ten feet tall
There were six metal studs screwed into each boot.
Dreaming that magic make me fleet of foot
Giving me confidence I started to strut
Like iron hammer stud striking church bell
With the sound of each footstep my chest it did swell
Protecting cajoling symphonic brotherhood.
This choral caste, that made each step good
Ensured I blossomed from this yearling bud!
The peeling of each ringing star studded stride
Each concrete footstep it filled me with pride
Something immense I now do belong
Collective protection in this happy throng
The church bell rang loudly I joined in its song
That simple sound of metal studded boots
The echoes from corridors like fine armoured suits
The moulding of me from forbidden fruit
Team bonding together they showed me the route
The thoughts that it triggers of my playing days
We should all have played rugby is the sound that it says!
The mighty Springbok, the wildebeest;
Transvaal troops are here to feast!
Cotezee burned by heat of braai
Kiwi roasting has gone by!
Seek shelter now on British shores,
Hoping now to settle scores.
Recoup, rebuild to mount assault
On Twickenhams famous fortress vault.
Tables mountain challenge tops,
Squeeze English lifeblood of its last drops.
But English fare have built their wall,
And now together they're standing tall!
But Jones still feels under pressure,
Despite Grand Slam it shows the measure,
Of will and drive of General Jones,
To achieve success such pride he owns.
Not satisfied by 3-0 white wash,
Autumn Internationals new path to cross.
Challenge of a year's clean sweep;
The leaves of last year buried deep!
Intensity of the training camps,
Preparation authority they try and stamp;
Broken legs and broken jaws,
England honour opens doors:
Key members of the squad depleted,
Strength in depth, players replaced repeated.
For those from cold, this is your chance,
To lead them with the tribal dance.
South Africa, Australia and Fiji,
England take your chance to be;
Cock's of the North, and Southern too,
Means All Black's will come into view!
So first the Springbok must be tamed,
Wrestled strong, a forwards game,
Be brutal in defence
Give nothing and send them whence
With backs on hand to snipe and race,
To finish with an heir of grace.
Bring on this challenge, your chance to take,
And earn the title of English greats!
The Autumn breeze swirls around Twickenham stands
As we sit and wait with clasping hands
The flags flutter the fans utter
Eddie makes demands
The game will not be one of ease
Internationals never an easy breeze
Eddies stern your shirt is earned
A must win game to seize
Don't let South Sea islanders blow us of course
Cheer full voice until you're hoarse
Ten from ten another then
Next must win game of course!
Standing tight stand up as one
Ready for the starting gun
Listen chaps no handout caps
Start right and build momentum
In fine voice Sweet Chariots echoes
Victory comes to those
Stand up proud, sing out loud
Defeat those from the Archipelagos
Come on England's chosen players
Like St George the Dragon slayer
Honour the Rose thats worn by those
Who answer English prayers!
12 conquests under my command
Another on the journey is what I demand
Excellence push the playing boundaries
These players moulded in english foundaries
Out of the shallow now into the deep
Victory focus keep clean sweep
Its time to play the master stroke
No need to fix if it ain't broke
Pumas bred on prime Pampas beef
Hope to cause the English grief
Pushed Scots close in Murrayfield
At Twickenham they will not yield
Pride of the Argentine this fierce pack
In England - Twickenham to pack attack
Sublime backs who are full of pace
A chance to rile get in the English face
But Eddie knows he has the squad,
the odds in favour to keep down trod
Take on the beef with fish n chips
Full of beans as Eddie quips
Take them on execute all the phases
Their last hurrah as England braces
Play at speed back row hunt and roam
Dominate the scrum to #CarryThemHome
Magnificent seven he's masterminded,
But Eddie wont need to be reminded,
Of Aussie will and fierce pride;
To Melbourne another testing ride.
Bucked the trend at home of Broncos,
Now seeing Red those green and golds
Rebel in Melbourne, the perfect Storm,
Restore Aussie pride their winning norm?
History shows Australia don't lose the second test,
The Wallabies bounce back, never second best,
But England approach your day of reckoning,
Knock at the door there's history beckoning.
World Cup mysery seared and sealed, congealed
In history books memory concealed
A silent corner, thoughts not quite gone;
Best medicine? Winning! Healing goes on!
This second test, play your chance card,
To beat them in their own back yard.
Beware Australian danger though those arcing runs
With funnel-web spider's ball out spun
Recycling speed, wide backs be freed,
Aussie play exciting breed.
Scythed the flanks and cut to shreds,
Hooper left english defences dead.
But Eddie showed nouse, his knowledge broader
A change! Get defensive house in order.
Haskell tackled his stranglehold,
Farrel made point with boot of gold.
Vision from Ford, Yarde won the race,
Fast line speed cutting down their space.
Scrum held firm and not unhinged,
Itoje is he a man with wings?
On a knife edge this weekend,
But England can a message send.
No laurel resting for last week's victors
Gustard says be defence constricters!
Games as close as these,
Swing like the sword of Damocles.
Hang by horse hair thread,
The scent of danger's dread!
The pendulum of momentum swings,
Composure, confidence out it brings,
Self belief has been instilled
Grit and fight strengthens English wills!
Australians write their own epistle,
Goading World Cup video bristles.
Watch out their tail, beware it's stings,
It's not over til fat lady sings.
But dancing toes of English Rose,
Create, attack and show to those;
We have intent, defensive strength,
We have the pace to go the length!
The forward pack to boss the tight,
Intensity of England's shining lights;
Boys believe don't be over thrown
Come on England Lets #CarryThemHome
The nightmare passed today, we woke
The soothsayer Jones had spoke
Of days like this, no joke
To play and win not choke
Those mental scars of last year healed
The memories now remain concealed
Buried beneath, not be revealed
But remind us when we take the field
That World Cup pain, oh how it ended
The branding from those burning embers
Loses! Everyone remembers
Drives us on, how it offend us !
For 13 years chances spurned
But now the tide has turned
Our favours now returned
I O Us of course be burned
The mantra is now one of trust
Self belief , just go and bust
A gut, let others taste your dust
World cup memory left to rust.
The winning journey has begun
This Grand Slam has been won
By victorious prodigal sons
Onwards to the land of the rising sun!
Been here before
Won from four from four
But it makes the blood curdle
Falling at the last hurdle
But tonight's the night
You have earned the right
In Stade de France
This is your chance
For greatness!
That red rose crest
Please beat your chest
Turn last year's misery
Into this year's history
We know you can
Make this Grand slam
You are not alone
We will #carrythemhome
To greatness!
Oh come on England's Chariot
Encamped in Paris fair
Welcomed by their Gallic friends
Can they stem their flair?
Once more unto the breach dear friends
Is the cry with which we're met
It starts at every moment
And of course there's crouch bind set!
Stiffen all those sinews
Prepare for each onslaught
Repel all of those phases
Defend and give them nought
There's no such thing as easy games
when playing at this level
It's a little thing - execution
Call it detail's devil
Don't leave it in the changing room
nor on the training pitch
Take it with you on your shirt and
With twinkle toes bewitch
The games afoot my dear friends
It's time to out perform
Come on all let's hit them hard
It's time for Honfleur storm
English followers are behind you
We know Trafalgar's duty
Come on you Sweetest Chariot
You are a thing of beauty
Its time to stamp authority
Taste victory so sweet
Your time to make some history
But please think on your feet!
Wear the shirt with honour
Best you all play out your skin
On come on English finest
The Grand Slam you can win!
The Championship neatly packed inside the bag,
To Paris, the English like rutting stags.
Defences shored and pride restored,
This English team can't be ignored.
Heads held high, job not quite done
The Grand Slam challenge still to be won!
The World Cup ghosts finally laid to rest,
Although haunting Welsh put to the test.
Welsh first half lacked the passion and fire
Their championship dashed in a funeral pyre.
The chariot rumbled in a fine procession
English strength? They kept possession!
Precision was sharp, like clinician's incision;
Accuracy tight, made decisions with vision.
Immense Itoje , turned over ball
A firm foundation of new fortress wall!
Execution key, hands up be counted
With pride bring on this French encounter!
The forwards grinning, four from four
The thirst of backs oh just one more;
So on to France a smouldering giant?
Will they turn over and be compliant?
Their Scottish loss showed fits and starts,
Do they have one win left in their hearts?
I have a hunch that this "Le Crunch!"
Will be won by the English bunch
Of players who wear the bright red rose,
A team rebuilding, where confidence grows
Who've had to swallow that bitter pill
But are now showing they have the will;
To savour the taste of victory sweet,
No Grand Slam agony! Oh no repeat!
They've been together, through thick and thin
And taken criticism on the chin.
They sampled pain, now tell your story.
Its time to bask in all your glory!
"Greatness awaits," says General Jones
Come on England lets #CarryThemHome !
The Welsh destroyer of our world cup dreams,
Can they rip grand slam thoughts at the seams?
Two wins, one draw they've come for more
To steal the championship from our door!
Revenge is a dish best served cold
The memories return, they'd remained untold.
September day, a burning ember
The dragons fire oh we remember!
Men of Harlech's battle calling,
Ready to give an English mauling.
Injury depleted hearts of desire
Heat of Sosban Fach it did inspire!
The heartache, the pain we were undone.
With Welsh passion we were overcome.
The twisting knife, no last ditch kick
Lineout lost, cut to the quick!
But now new fortress foundations laid
A Phoenix rises, debts be repaid.
New General Jones the wily fox,
Can fix with new tricks in his box!
Hartley hares from scrum to scrum,
The towering pack knows what be done.
Finer balance in the new back row
As we watch Vunipola rumble so.
Creative backs, stern in defence
Can send the Welsh from whence
They came, over Brecon Beacon Hill
Oh take your wilting daffodil!
St George send David Cardiff bound
Chase and Harry go and hound
Don't let them settle, no quick ball
Cheered on by the Twickenham roar!
Nullify Roberts the Welsh wrecking ball,
It's time to make the mighty fall!
Board your chariots of desire
Extinguish burning dragons fire!
The backs with power and twinkle toes,
They wear with pride our English Rose.
The talking's done, no more time to speak
English scythe cut short the leek!
Almighty clash it will unfold,
Take your bow of burning gold
To pierce the heart of dragons fire
Inspired by chariot of desire!
Momentum building three from three
At home again let demons free
Erase from minds World Cup headstone
Come on England let's #CarryThemHome!
#Shouldertoshoulder, lead by Rory Best,
Upon their shirts their shamrock crests.
1 draw, 1 loss, tide turns today
The roars, the cheers, oh what a day!
The ringing of Fields of Athenry,
Come on Ireland we'll hear them cry!
Your cabbage patch will be our Green,
To haunt your World Cup broken dream.
Irish pride and Celtic gall
To crush your crumbling fortress wall
You have 2 wins under your belt
Well, welcome home it is heart felt!
Our Irish finest Heaslip and Finn Mac Cumhail
The Causeway's best fight tooth and nail
A chance to give a bloody nose
To those who wear the white and rose;
Come on Connaught clans and men of Munster,
Leinster greats and players of Ulster!
The chariot returns to Twickenham home
First welcome for new General Jones.
Aggressive pack, wild and heavy freight
Take on up front avenge the world cup weight!
Scots threat quelled, Azzuri felled
To Ireland with a team well gelled.
The mighty pack, those twinkle toes
Of backs the thorns of English Rose,
Who dart and probe, get under skin
Beguile break through for first home win?
Who would bet against this set
A game in store appetite now wet.
The Shamrock Guiness pours
The Irish Whiskey, now what's yours?
With open arms and soft words spoke
An all embracing tackle choke.
Look forward to this mighty craic
For honours, with the Champions back to back!
General Jones rebuild our home!
Return to winning ways home grown
The bigger - the harder - the Irish fall
The Red Rose building the fortress wall
Let's carry on where we left in Rome
Come on England lets #CarryThemHome!
Reigning champions, its about regaining pride
As they march to Twickenham, no place to hide!
The raining poured in the Stade de France,
Not quite #6Nations jig or merry dance.
The ball became a bar of soap
Did the Championship slip to a distant hope?
Principality draw, a one point loss;
It was close a bit like one coin's toss,
The knife edge, the margin between the loss or win,
The line, the difference it is so thin.
So near, so far will fans now beg
Heads held high or tails 'tween legs?
Is the bit now firmly between their teeth
Surely this year no #6Nations wreath!
So Ireland are they on the rack
What welcome from the Cabbage patch?
Will Joe Schmidt repair their wounds?
Turn into Irish wolfhounds soon?
As they search for their first victory
But England await, let's wait and see.
The English fresh from travels abroad,
Italy and Scotland put to the sword;
New general Jones showing his authority
Goading, gaining notoriety.
The tinker, the tailor, changing the mix
Jonathan Joseph adding his hat tricks.
Sniping half backs, bossing pack
Prepared for Irish planned attacks.
Sextant Sexton with his high ball
Elementary for Watson, please stand tall.
A house party for Nowell and Brown,
Come on England lets go to town!
Momentum building it's time to strike
Fear into Irish and all alike.
Too early to talk of things grand slam
Focus on the game at hand!
It's time a chance balance redress,
Let's rebuild Twickenham's strong fortress,
Continue from where we left in Rome
Come on England lets #carrythemhome!
They put to rest old Banquo's ghost
That tragedy of the World Cup hosts
The Calcutta Scythe cut Scottish Woe
A win's a win, not greatest show
To take on Scots in burning cauldron
The result for Jones "Job done we won!"
Wheels back on the straight and narrow
A new victorious burning arrow
The chariot rumbled, Vunipola trundled
The forwards bossed and bundled
The backs combined and try created
But also kept the Scots sedated
The chariot heads towards the Appian Way
A good hiding required the papers say
General Jones building to a burning glory
To the Azzuri for another story
Parisee apart from botched dropped kick
Was a class above, what makes him tick?
The breakdown's key says General Jones
On the road to Stadio Olimpico
God's speed and pace is what we need
Unlock quick ball let backs be freed
Seek burning gold, chariot of desire
Come on England's Swing Low Choir
Its time boys to go inspire
And listen to Jones our new messiah!
A chance for the World Cup hosts,
To bury deep those World Cup ghosts.
Make Murrayfield a buried field,
The nightmare signed and sealed
Beneath cairn stones,
Which pave the way for General Jones,
To ignite a chariot of desire
Come on England's new messiah!
Auld enemy from Highland and Scottish borders,
Seeking revenge these motivated marauders,
With reeling open wounds still gaping.
They feel England for the taking?
Australian loss tore at their soul.
A renewed vigour with a hardened goal
So near, so far, last kick, last gasp,
An English victory is within their grasp!
The budding flower springs eternal hope.
World Cup success now still in scope
Pretenders to the Crown this year!
Battle hardened, brave hearts full of cheer;
To Murrayfield with fired bellies and poems Burning,
A victory now is what they're yearning.
To seal a win on their home turf
No longer playing second string serf!
England's noble yeoman of the guard.
Fight inch by inch and yard by yard,
New Captain's passion felt from the Hartley
Inspire the spirit, but do it smartly.
Prepared to repel this blue onslaught.
They'll fight their corner, first victory sought.
English pack and backs combine as one;
There's unfinished work still to be done.
The celtic wild oh how they'll rile,
Keep honest discipline, stay rank and file.
Tackle hard get in their face
No penalties, be chieftains of this pudding race!
Clashing clansmen clad in tartan cloaks,
Again armed with their tackle chokes
Poised with pints of heavy thoughts
Brave heart Scotland a victory wrought!
The English folk fight common foe,
Will Calcutta scythe reap Scottish woe?
Can backs repeat with twinkle toe
And the forwards' chariots rumble so?
A chance England for recompense.
The games afoot and so intense,
Wipe away that memory loss
Time again for 6 Nations boss!
Return to winning ways home grown
Come on England #CarryThemHome!
With your back to the wall when you're down to fourteen,
On the line is your body once more.
You've given your soul, you're battered, you bleed
Take heart and look at the score!
Phase after phase you've tackled and felled
But Argentina will never give up;
Together your teamwork will keep them repelled,
It's time to make your own luck!
With Robshaw wired, he's here and inspired,
He's taken some crap on the chin,
But he takes deep breath in, he's stoked and he's fired
And he knows that you never give in.
The villains of last year you poor world cup zeros
The judge says your sentance is quashed!
Prodigal sons you Twickenham heroes
13 wins on the spin you've white washed!
Look in the mirror and look at your mates
Together see what you've achieved;
That glint in the eye of New English greats
And its all because you believed!
From 14 players to 14 wins this week
Is this the confidence with which we speak
What is the secret of Eddie's conundrum
Creating momentum doing the hum drum
Execution of the game in hand
Let pundits talk of unbeaten slams
Fish n chips wooden fork with 'styrene tray
Simple game plan this Saturday
Players have the blue print for all what ifs
The chance to use their skill and gifts
Play the game from what they see ahead
Have set plays but use their heads
Australian grand slam dashed hope in Dublin
Revenge on their minds are looking for trouble in
Twickenham as whitewash lays its heavy weight
Cuts deep, with Eddie and his press bait
Can resurgent Wallabys find that extra form
Can England manage that early storm
They have the backs to cut to shreds
England no penalties don't lose those heads
Defence is key against those backs
First up tackles to stem attacks
Cheika knows balance tightly in the scrum
How to unpick England they can be undone
Eddie dreams England expects
This will be the best win yet
Strength in depth eye for the common goal
Confidence belief keeps this team whole
Grind them down hit them hard
Send them your own seasons greeting card
End the year on a mighty high
Come on England just one more try!
