They come to this place to taunt

Each other,

On a battlefield against a friend

Or Brother.

They stand, and they face each other

To start,

Twenty-two men with no fear in their

Hearts.

From start to finish, this is a race,

All of them are wearing the same

Game Face.

Like a game of chess, their strategy

Is planned,

To conquer the enemy who invades

Their land.

They charge down the field, like

Soldiers, they run,

Let nothing stop them from getting

The job done.

They make their way through the

Mud and rain,

to the other side, they fight through

The pain.

Now the sound of people as they yell,

Down on the field must be some kind

Of hell.

In the end, when it’s all done,

These warriors of the field,

So much they have won.

Keith Garrett