Mrs Bard had a great weekend. She is Welsh. For the benefit of my foreign readers, let me explain: To Wales (Cymru), England (Lloegr) is ‘the old Enemy’ and the game of rugby (rygbi) is a religion. Wales has a population less than six percent of its larger neighbour, and a senior rugby playing base roughly one-eighth the size. On Saturday in the Six Nations Rugby Tournament (contested by Wales, England, Ireland, Scotland, France and Italy), Wales annihilated England 30 points to 3, in what was promised to be (by the English-biased BBC commentators), ‘a close encounter’. After the match those same commentators, who had heralded an English victory, were quick to blame the effects of the stadium’s atmosphere, saying that it upset the young England players. Perhaps those young warriors would have been better off visiting one of Wales’ golden beaches, armed with bucket and spade, instead of braving the colosseum. Match day in Cardiff is special. If you ever, ever, are offered the opportunity to watch a match at the Millennium Stadium, sell your Grandmother, give away your kids and head on down to Cardiff…
Dai woke up in Cardiff,
Sat up on the bed,
“I can’t believe we won the match,”
As he clutched his aching head!
He’d set off Saturday morning,
Kissed his wife and kids goodbye,
He’d promised to be home that night,
This time he’d really try!
A pint of Brains slipped down a treat,
His second even better!
His third was spilt down his chest,
There was more beer than sweater!
Pre-match in the Prince of Wales,
With a chap he met called Bevan,
Another couple to steady the nerves,
Took his own score up to seven!
Walking to the stadium,
A sea of red and white,
Not sure if Wales could win the match,
But they’d put up a fight!
Seated in Row F seat 7,
Nestling another pint,
With Tomos from Abergele,
And Ray from Llantrisant.
He stood unsteady for the Anthem,
His voice was strong and sure.
Tears were streaming down his face.
‘Feed me evermore!’
Then silent prayers,
Were whispered all around,
“Please O Lord help beat them,
On this sacred ground!”
A half-time score of 9-3,
Better than dreamed how,
Halfpenny’s boot was magic,
Please Lord, stop it now!
But second half was fantastic,
Two tries crushed their fears,
Had England run away to hide?
Best win for many years!
Dai was over-euphoric,
Coming back from the park,
He thought he’d kissed an Englishman,
But it was awful dark!
A few more pints to celebrate,
Singing with the boys,
On and on into the night,
His voice became just noise!
Sunday morning fine and bright,
And his head was awful sore.
He couldn’t believe where he was:
A bedding superstore!
He told the surprised manager:
“I’m very sorry, see,
I didn’t mean to spend the night,
But we beat them 30-3!”
© Baldock Bard 2013
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There is something very reassuring about daffodils. They are rather like that one friend who always smiles and is cheerful despite whatever is going on in his/her life. They bounce into your life and always say nice things about you, bring the right bottle of wine and dance as if nobody’s watching! No wonder a certain poet was so enthusiastic…
