Rexxy for Bags
Thanks to Captain Drew-Sta for the hard yards in a tough year.
THE MEN FROM GEORES RIVER - Apologies to Banjo Patterson
There was movement at Allawah station, for the word had passed around
That the Dragons from St George/Illawarra had made the grade,
And had joined Sydney Roosters - in the 2010 Grand Final,
So all forwards and backs had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted players from the catchment way down south
Had mustered at the Leagues Club overnight,
For the players love hard tackles where the rowdy fans go wild,
And the players snuff the battle with delight.
There was Hornby, who wasn't born, when they played the Panasonic Cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could run off of him when his blood was fairly up -
He would go where other halfbacks couldn't go.
And BMoz from Kiama Juniors came up to lend a hand,
No better winger ever held the ball;
For never forward or back could tackle him in motion,
Either side of the Pacific Ocean,
He learnt to play while cheering on the Saints.
And one was there called Sowie, a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a jockey undersized,
With a touch of prancing pony - three parts thoroughbred at least
Soward was a goal kicker much prized.
But being so slight and weedy, he didn't always take on the line,
And Brain Smith said, "That guy will never do"
For a long game such as ours - lads, we should use the element of surprise
Lets get Soward before he can run right through
But when the Roosters shut down Sowie, he simply passed it out to Boydy
And the Roosters game plan, was well and truly in the poo.
All week before, they trained around Georges River, up by Tom Ugly's side,
Where Carss Park hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a players boot strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that makes 40 tackles a game is good enough.
When Grand Final day appeared there was laughter in the air
from Arncliffe down to Bega and all parts in between.
Some warned of 96 and 99, but this time it was different, we now have Big Wayne Benett
And the players know the value of a level head can bring.
Things started out the Dragons way, with a penalty near half way,
and the crowd sensed what was to come,
A kick over head from Soward, to the hands of Mighty Gaz.
The Saints were on the board with kick to come.
Brian Smith sat quietly fuming, after all his plans and scheming
He didn't quite look so relaxed now
with his latte sipping cronies, two parts milk and 1 part phony.
And Michael McInnes looked on, giving the cheer girls the eye.
Next to score were the Chooks, who used a play out of the books, when BJ Leilua caught a ball.
he was over in a jiffy but the try it looked quite iffy. With Braith Anasta claiming
that he had fallen in the ball.
The second half began, and the Dragons got the upper hand
when the ball went through the hands.
And the one they call Florence, who was faster than Albert Torrens, had them standing in the stands.
By the time the rain was falling the Red & Whites were scoring,
another try, again to Nighty, then to Youngy and then Fien.
By the time I thought to call it, Mark McInnes had lost interest
And slowly moved his gaze, to another shapely teen.
The rest I don't remember, but I sobered up in December
And remembered all he great things of a mighty footy year,
Being a footy fan,
Is part of God's great plan
And in March it started again - but things could never be the same
At least for me, a humble footy fan.
And down by Wollongong Oval, where the Escarpment meets the shoreline,
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and Boob Milward wears a blazer
At midnight under the cold and frosty sky,
And where Wayne Bennett's ghost roams and the gumtrees sweep and sway
The men from the George's and Shoalhaven Rivers are a household word today,
Young, Hornby, Creagh call into the Steelers Club to say g'day
And the local bar flies tell the story of their rise
http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/patersonab/poetry/snowy.html