Feeding the Sharks - what does it imply, is it an
orchestrated aberration of piscine manipulation -
you know ‘fishy-aims-a-foot’, off the hook sorties
with a Natal mob in a Brisbane paddock watched
by a handful of dedicated trawler men; well no, it
was a game of rugby that didn’t go quite as we’d
planned, a disastrous foray agin the great whites
we wanted to beat - and succeeded in losing
Okay, can we blame a preoccupied referee who
seemed keener stating a case for a World Cup
berth than reasonable refereeing; hell’s teeth, if
both teams were a bit miffed by obscure rulings
surely this rates to the home team’s advantage:
oh well, as it transpired, - not to the Reds clout
So it wasn’t with a rousing shout, moreso a dull
roar, that The Sharks collected a prize of Red’s
ego-diminished scalps in assorted size, with an
assurance their next game won’t be any easier -
they are home to the Rebels who’ve won six of
fourteen - while the Sharks have only five
© 23 May 2015, I. D. Carswell
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