Your cabbage patch will be our Green,
To haunt your Championship broken dream.
Irish pride and Celtic gall,
To crush your crumbling fortress wall.
Connaught clans and men of Munster,
Leinster greats and players of Ulster!
Grand Slam! And give a bloody nose,
To those who wear the white and rose!
What goes around, comes to the ground
In Twickenham wondrous fortress found,
The pastures of our metal here;
Foundry of the English dear!
Been there, done that, how mighty fall,
But backs now gainst the fortress wall;
Breakdown the bushel. Oh see it's light!
Tis time for English spirit, fight!
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