Monday, March 17, 2008

2008 Grav Slam

There I was, like the last miners’ picket,
Stranded outside the ground without a ticket,
When a voice whispered, “Follow me Butt.
I know an entrance that’s never shut
And so I can tell you, I was there
Where the flags flew the thickest in the cold evening air,
To see Grav lead his girls out by the hand,
Hear his voice boom “Mae Hen” louder than the band.

High ball, crash ball, ruck and maul,
The soundest brick in a great Red Wall,
The big man stormed everywhere,
Laying waste to blue shirts without a care
Until the final whistle blew
And the roar of 80,000 grew
And the foundations of Cardiff shook
And pubs overflowed wherever you looked.

Faced with a post match interview, Grav gravely shook his head
And with a grin that split his face from side to side just said,
That was the most gruelling game I’ve ever had.
Just goes to show, this artificial leg’s not bad

No one who isn't Welsh will understand this poem or even care what a 'Grand Slam' is. With so much misery abounding it's time for some unbridled joy and another celebration of a great man and a Welsh legend.

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