Fergie McCormick was hard as nails, tough as teak,
What carnage on the rugby field he would wreak,
Yet he had a charitable as well as a rambunctious streak,
There would always be
A card of sympathy
When you woke up sometime well into next week.
Who’s that sitting in the naughty corner?
Why, it’s ex Vice-captain David Warner;
Pugnacious Davey is now counting the cost
Of cheating to win, but how much has he lost?
Its not the Vice-captaincy loss that makes him bite his lip,
It’s those millions for playing in India, and his sponsorship,
All he did was try to ‘manipulate an advantage’ to win…
For the soul of him David can’t see why that is a sin?
For Davey it’s just not cricket for 365 more days,
Time a’plenty to tote up the cost of his cheatin’ ways;
Someones gone and taken away Davey’s bat and ball
Yet it feels like he’s getting his just deserts after all.
Oh, Davy Warner, you poor delicate innocent little flower,
Has the onfield jolly jokey blokey jousting begun to sour?
Did De Kocks disagreeable dialogue offend the ear, so tender
Of crickets deep-dredging low down sledging main offender?
It’s understandable for Davy to blow his fuse
When his wonderous team occasionly gracelessly lose,
But even when the bas Baggy Greens win
He can’t help putting his too little sense in.
So what has brought about whining Warnies petulant pout?
He can’t take the fact someone else is dishing it out;
So does he keep his counsel, as a good vice-captain ought?
Crikey, not on your ever-loving effing blinding life, sport.
Oh, to be back in the sceptred isle on a sepulchral January day,
No, there’s no place like home the old folks unfailingly say,
The rain paints the streets a shade of an all too familiar grey,
Hmm, whatever possessed me to go rather than jolly well stay?
Now I’m thinking of MY home as I trudge through the spray,
Where the rain gently but rarely falls on the sun crazed clay,
That welcoming sun’s calling me back, and no more will I stray,
I’m going home, getting my old Spurs scarf and giving it away.
When it comes to his Wallabies Cheika is fiercely protective,
Their unlucky defeats bring on a stream of Coach’s invective,
Likeable Michael knows who to blame for all these defeats,
Touch judges and referees all cheat, he plaintively bleats.
One must feel sorry for the Wallabies on their flight home,
After Scotland, has Mike developed Asperger’s Syndrome?
For his solemnly silent team the non-stop flight is wearing,
Listening to Motormouth Michael’s non-stop swearing.
A parlous place to be is Crystal Palace’s bosses seat,
Frank’s just found out- four weeks in, and it’s job complete,
But frankly if your team loses the first four, AND can’t score
You know Steve Parish will show you Palaces revolving door.
Steve thought he’d struck a bargain in hiring a Dutch treat,
But Franks tenure was brutally short, Steve acted tout suite,
Long suffering patience is not something Parish has time for;
Ask last years Manager, or any of the many who went before.