Heave! Push! Shove! Clamp
the forwards’ heads, the front row heads:
Shout! Grunt! Snarl! Drive
immoveables against the rocks!
Loud call – thrust inward spins the egg
at crush of grasping hooker’s leg,
the leather oval disappears
inside red belly of the scrum –
from out that striving, thrashing scrum
it re-appears,
a ball the scrum-half dives and flings
to his fly-half,
to Cliff Morgan…
Proud son of Rhondda, Cardiff player,
of Bective Rangers, Lions and Wales,
Barbarians, a Grand Slam winner
whose speed excited, kick rare fails;
from TV sport repute with honour,
then brave when illness life curtails…
to his fly-half,
to Barry John…
Played Cardiff too, post days Llanelli,
knew pride in Grand Slam ’71;
with Lions and Baa-baas on the tele,
his pinpoint kicks and gliding run
brought sides their tries, him plaudits worthy,
saw world how Welsh team honours won….
to his fly-half,
Jonathan Davies…
In Neath, Llanelli, Cardiff teams,
for Wales, then Wales, was capped and played
in League and Union rugby schemes,
his life with prizes was arrayed,
by speed and skill achieved his dreams,
whose art, with Morgan, John, won’t fade…
to heaving scrums, to speeding backs,
no rugby inspiration lacks
in lives, though playing days are gone,
of men like Morgan, Davies, John.
————
