They're gathering at Cloffocks
In the late afternoon
Testosterone in T shirts
The game's beginning soon
An ancient war-like stuggle
For the Park or harbour wall
The Uppies and the Downies
Wage a battle for the ball
Hail, hail the ball
Hail the barbarians
Running along the Harbour Wall
The ball is up, they're in the beck
The scrum is hard and tight
The ball flies out away they run
The beat the failing light.
They're ploughing up the cricket pitch
And allotments of the town.
Stand back, stand back, bystander
Or the scrum will run you down
Laughing, pushing flexing style
Dark determined eyes.
Thousands crowd the high-ground
Murmuring asides.
They think the ball is the pack
In the blood and muck and dirt.
But there are no rules in this game.
It's stuffed up Millican's shirt.