When the battle scars have faded
And the truth becomes a lie
And the weekend smell of winter green
Would almost make you cry.
From the first time that you laced a boot
And tightened every stud
That virus known as Rugby
Has been living in your blood
When the last ruck is well behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
your broken body talks
You’re an advert for arthritis
You’re a thoroughbred gone lame
Then you ask yourself the question
Would you do the same again?
Encountering Tommy Burns
was a challenge of much ado
As soon as Tommy used the head
Then Phil would send one through
When you dreamt it, when you played it
All the rest took second fiddle
Now you’re standing on the sideline
But your hearts still in the middle
And no matter where you travel
You can take it as expected
Your Lifelong Hoppers brothers
are Hopelessly infected
It’s almost worth admitting
As I’m sure you’ll all agree
Our Fondest lasting memories
were born at P.G R F C
You see – that’s the thing with rugby
It will always be the same
And that, I guarantee today, is why you played the gentlemen’s game!