This weeks collection from the COYSDC lyricists

Come on you Saints!
By The COYSDC Poets
October 10 2002

Once again the comeonyousaints.com messageboarders have been posting their poetry on all things saintly. This weeks contributors include Binary Bob, Chris, St. Marlowe, Sambo, sall and of course the godfather of COYSDC ditties and the Walsalls top educator, West Midlands Saint.

Binary Bob

At the Barf match we'd all gone
To Hero's bar - meeting by one
For the lasses and boys
Who 'chat' via COYS
Were seen drinking by the tonne

Special thanks go to Saintsby Bob
Who organised a meeting of the mob
For it was very clear
Who I was stood near
Those labels did such a good job

T'was great at last to meet you all
In sizes and shapes big and small
From town and from fen
'Till we all meet again
Come On You Saints is our call.

WMS
Last season the Sarries were down in the dumps,
Deserted by sweet Lady Luck.
They called for the cavalry; "Help us!" they cried,
And who should turn up but Air Buck.

You remember Wayne Shelford, it weren't long ago
When he left there were thousands of mourners.
Just a shame, when you think, that the poor man's surname
Rhymes with a road from Pooh Corner.

Such a leader of men, he turned our team round
And memories make the heart throb
But never forget the Pilkington Cup:
He didn't quite finish the job

His exploits so fearsome and second to none
While donning the Black Green and Gold
But he left us too early, Cup Final to come
Yes, he left the poor Saints in the cold.

So Fez heads, enjoy him, and please make the most
Of successes and be of good cheer
'Cos sat'dee the Jimmies are coming to town
Wayne owes us - the Buck will stop here.

Chris!
Well Westie you know that we all love your rhymes
Your odes are a joy to be seen
But please could you try and keep up with the times
On this site its GOLD BLACK n GREEN!

St. Marlowe
The Saints this week,
A win will seek,
Deep in the heart of Watford,

The London sky
Is grey and high,
Deep in the heart of Watford.

Awful pies
but lots of tries
Deep in the heart of Watford,

Reminds me, that,
We'll crush them flat,
Deep in the heart of Watford.

Shrek will fall ,
At Williams' call,
Deep in the heart of Watford,

They'll have no fun
When Ripol runs,
Deep in the heart of Watford

Supporters sing,
They'll go marching in
Deep in the heart of Watford,

The Sorries bawl,
And bawl and bawl,
Deep in the heart of Watford.

WMS
So call me old fashioned or strictly non vogue
But one day you'll all join the fold.
'Cos Chris my old friend though you may run this site
The club says it's Black Green and Gold.

Sambo
An Australian Love Poem

Of course I love ya darling
You're a bloody top notch bird
And when I say you're gorgeous
I mean every single word
So ya bum is on the big side
I don't mind a bit of flab
It means that when I'm ready
There's somethin' there to grab
So your belly isn't flat no more
I tell ya, I don't care
So long as when I cuddle ya
I can get my arms round there
No sheila who is your age
Has nice round perky breasts
They just gave in to gravity
But I know ya did ya best
I'm tellin ya the truth now
I never tell ya lies
I think its very sexy
That you've got dimples on ya thighs
I swear on me nanna's grave now
The moment that we met
I thought u was as good as
I Was ever gonna get
No matter wot u look like
I'll always love ya dear
Now shut up while the footy's on And fetch another beer!

St.Marlowe
My old Dame said follow the Game
and watch Dilly Dallio have mare.
Of went the match with the Saints Hearts in it
Jorgy in the van, prepared to win it,
We won ball, we ran it, Saints pack was made of granite
Wasps lost their way and don't where to go
Back to High Wycombe, with their hopes all stricken,
And they can't find their way home.

Altogether now.........


WMS
I'm sorry but nobody said
You'd be making your Dad sit instead
Of the normal block C
Oh I wish I could see
Young Joe when he screams off his head!

WMS
How many hits must our blind sider make
To call him the man of the match?
Yes, 'n' how many 10's must be dumped in the dirt
'Cos all of them Andrew can catch.
Yes, 'n' who do you think will de-bounce little tig
The one with the new, horse hair thatch
The answer, my friend, is Blowers of the Saints,
The answer is Blowers of the Saints.

Binary Bob
Today as if you didn't know it
Is the day of the National Poet
So give it some time
And it will rhyme
And Budgen 'll learn to throw it

Now I wouldn't hazard a guess
About whether it's more or less
Likely that we will hear
From Wasall oh so near
With a contribution from WMS

But on Sunday lets hope for that winner
As we all digest meat and veg dinner
For I'm sure we concur
That to beat Ulster
Will make us a Saint, not a Sinner.

As today is poets day, with luck
Our lads 'll be pushing in the ruck
But if the words won't flow,
As you probably might know
I can't finish in rhyme, oh damn.

Sall
So they say today is the day
That poets come out play
In the black gold and green
they truely do gleen

From Bob, Marlowe to WMS
It's far better than shopping at BHS
For you don't want to know what us girls buy
But it ain't a green black and gold tie...

Just think of all that dosh
and wait before going 'oh gosh'
for think what it means
and the stitching on those seams.

For the chance to watch the boys
pass, kick, throw and tackle
Down the looked after pasture
and the uncle keiths castle

An atmosphere non like it
and the boys in a shiny new kit
will play on Sunday
and ache on Monday!