A World Championship sonnet...

A silly little poem for the SA team at the Worlds - i guess there is a bit of health warning, i think South Africans probably will appreciate it more than others...


A World Championship sonnet... by Chrissi Maria

As Andre specs out
Our Russell’s on fire
And look out, there’s Henry,
As blonde as when ‘when we’,
Next up is our Khobi, so graceful and focused,
Don’t mess with this lady, that goal’s been pre-brokered.

It’s a Bull and a Shark and a Cheetah thrown in,
A Stormer for good measure, like a slap on the chin.
The Swiss must be trembling,
The French packing their bags,
The Russians can’t take it,
The Brits say it’s never been this bad.

Some nameless, not shameless,
who blundered at start,
now kicking and fuming,
defeat never tasting so tart.

Greg Knudson hatches his plans as the gaggle expands.
Whilst another is wishing he’d joined a blues band.
Russ Ogden, so focused, it’s almost alarming,
And Marcus’ smile is simply disarming.

Brown Jack’s seeing black
as Prince Ulrich goes slack.
And Brad thinks that’s sick,
whilst the Ozzies take the mick’.

Mad’s crushing his opponents…
an ‘eye’ on the my
But now back to South Africa,
to the who, what, when and the why.

They’re styling, they’re styling, our team’s on final glide,
There’s shouting, there’s screaming, a frenzy is neigh.
“Behind you! Behind you!” yelp fans who’re house-bound.
It’s castles, it’s lagers, it’s bokdoos and clowns!

Go Bokke! Go Bokke!
Ons smaak julle so!!
You’re skygods, and winners,
En vir ons altyd voor!