Hello Michael, our old friend,
We’ve come to talk with you again,
Because your vision of our rugby team,
Is leaving Roarers only wanting to scream,
And the vision that is planted in your brain-
Within the sound of silence.
With changing teams we’ve watched you lose,
With all those Waratahs you use,
Blaming everyone and making scenes,
Throwing tantrums on our TV screens
And running complicated systems of defence
(that make no sense)
And still the sound of silence.
With fewer viewers on TV,
And barren stadiums we see,
Players kicking without thinking,
Players passing without looking,
Players dropping balls that schoolboys wouldn’t dare
But no one cares…
Just more sounds of silence.
“Fool” said we, “You’ve not a clue!
Four from thirteen will not do,
Hear our words that we might teach you,
Take our advice that we might reach you”
But our words like silent box-kicks fell,
In the halls of silence.
And so the Roarers bowed and prayed
To the RA Board they paid.
And the Board sent out its warning,
A “High Performance Plan” is dawning
And the Plan said, “Keep doing what you’re doing
But clear it first with Scott. (?)
He’ll stop the rot. (?)
More whispers… in the sounds… of silence.
Merry Christmas to all Roarers!