Second Row

Giraffes, the butt of those jokes,
As you scrum down together
with those forward folks.
Shove in your head,
Ears crushed by those hips,
Binding so tightlly,
Affording no slips.
Legs locking like girders,
No give is the key,
Fearless dark arts
Is the way that you'll be!

Ball in at scrum time,
The pressure, the urge
Feeling the power house
Of the second row surge!
Studs bite the turf,
Strong, solid as the rock;
Giving them nothing,
This second row lock!

Loloping from line out,
To ruck and to maul,
Dominate the line Call,
Recycling the ball.

Rolling maul champions,
Front, middle or back,
Lifted safely, leading the pack.
Jumping forward or taking the lob,
In tune with your hooker,
You give him the nod.

Do your set piece,
Run at the gain line;
Battering ram body
Built by design,
Beware body angles;
If tackling hit hard,
Knocking them backwards,
Like pack of house cards!

Gentle giants, stuck in engine room,
Pack down together,
Leave other scrum strewn;
Splintered, collapsed all left in a heap:
Actions, the answer, for talking is cheap:
Unsung heroes the damage is done
The second row giants, they too can have fun!