Rugby carols by candlelight

'We wish you a merry Christmas...!'

It's Christmas day, and all over the world people and families are singing the traditional songs... but for those of you missing your rugby fix, here's a few rugby carols!

Argentina joining the Tri-Nations (To the tune of We Three Kings)

We three kings of SANZAR we are,
Bearing the Pumas from Argentina afar,
Now a Four Nations and less complaining,
Means more beers to be had at the bar.

O, Pumas of wonder, Pumas of might,
Juan Martin Hernandez with a future bright,
Fernandez Lobbe leading, still proceeding,
To give the All Blacks a little fright.

England's form in the November Tests (To the tune of Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!)

Oh the results this year were frightful,
But having Jonny back is so delightful,
And since tries at Twickenham were a no-show,
How low can you go! Can you go! Can you go!

Johnson doesn't show signs of stopping,
And I've bought a season ticket for nothing,
Can I get a refund or no?
How low can you go! Can you go! Can you go!

At least we finally got a win,
Even though they had players in the bin!
Any hope of getting things right,
Were put to bed by NZ on the night!

The Johnson hype is slowly dying,
And England fans are not surviving,
But as long as you love the red Rose so,
How low can you go! Can you go! Can you go!

Peter de Villiers and the media (To the tune of Away In A Manger)

Away on a tangent, no earmuffs in sight,
PDV comparing mechanics: black and white.
Oregan Hoskins looked down in dismay,
While the room fills with laughter on a Bok media day.

The sniggers are growing, John Smit stays away,
But PDV keeps on going, verbal diarrhoea on display.
From rugby to dancing, Dick Muir looks to the sky,
But stands by his colleague, while thinking 'why, oh why?'

The moustache starts tingling, Gary Gold's ears are ringing,
What will PDV say next, to leave everyone perplexed?
His temper is rising, which isn't too surprising,
But his results say more, than Tiger Woods' womanising.

IRB Player of the Year decision (To the tune of Jingle Bells)

Through the names we go
With only one player in mind
As the excuses grow
It's McCaw who is aligned
Bells whiskey on the lips
Drinking spirits is a delight
What fun it is to laugh and sing
At the IRB tonight

Oh, jingle bells, the IRB smells
They always get their way
Oh, what fun it must be to cite
Players every day and night
Jingle bells, the IRB smells
They always get their way
Oh, how many rules can you change
From December until May

A week or two ago
They took us for a ride
By shunning Fourie du Preez
Like a kick in the backside
BOD was left out too
Misfortune seemed his lot
How McCaw got the vote
Will never be forgot

Oh, jingle bells, the IRB smells
They always get their way
Oh, what fun it must be to cite
Players day and night
Jingle bells, the IRB smells
They always get their way
Oh, how brave their choice must be
Next year will be a referee!

Gavin Henson in trouble again (To the tune of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer)

Gavin the injury-prone Welshman,
Had a very drinking nose,
And if the Ospreys ever saw it,
You could even say it glows.

All of the other pub locals,
Used to be called horrible names;
Because they never let poor Gavin,
Watch re-runs of his rugby games.

Then one drunkard Six Nations Eve,
Warren Gatland came to say:
"Gavin with your bar tab out of sight,
Won't you guide me home tonight?"

Then how the locals loved him
As they shouted out with glee,
"Gavin the hard-nosed boozer,
You'll always be a mystery!"

By Dave Morris