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 !
No comments:
Post a Comment