Six Nations wake from slumber

As winter turns to Spring

For tribal warfare on the pitch

It’s a Celts and Saxons thing

They’ll be singing hymns and arias

From the Tiber to the Tay

And the week feels that much longer

As we wait for Saturday

And the squads are called together

From places far and wide

There will be sunshine and foul weather

There will be shir...

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On the Grand Canal in Venice

where bridges span and sigh

There’s a rising sense of menace

Here comes the W.I.

They’re oblivious to the sandbags

Stacked against an inundation

As they wield their leather handbags

And march in tight formation

At the head of them is Norah

The bravest and the best 

The other girls adore her

In their phalanx, ten abreast

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