Scrum Half

The lynch pin, the link man, between forwards and backs;
Used to be pint sized to spear head attacks.
Now can be 6.3, extra size adding bulk,
If don't get their own way, have been known to sulk.
Tenacious, pugnacious, they never say die;
Impassioned, encouragement they won't let it lie.

Barking their orders sniping at heels,
Guiding the forwards, ensuring the steals.
Control rolling maul, the eyes of the pack,
Midfield Generals, Napoleon's with strategic attack
Gobby shites, chelping, chatting, winding up play,
Adding their snipes, having to have the last say.

Preference for arm chairs, but earning their pay,
If scrum going backwards, get ball quickly away.
Spin pass to fly half, and gas off the mark,
Using the blind side, they probe and they dart;
Or light blue touch paper, and watch it ignite,

Add spark to the game, and try as they might,

Innocent looks, butter wouldn't melt in their mouth;
Yeah right! In Sahara there's never a drought!
Put ball in at scrum time, with no crooked feed,
Run pace of the game at lightning speed,
Pass from the base, first to every ruck,
Dig out the ball if under bodies gets stuck.
Eye for a gap, some are wild and untamed,
Box kicks, the high ball, taking their aim.
Jack Russell's of rugby can be a right pain,
But important, the lynch pin, dictating the game!