Its Saints v Sarries at the Gardens

If you are going to the game.....

Keep an eye on that Northampton weather!

HOW TO GET HERE

Road: From the South: Leave M1 at junction 15A and follow signs towards Sixfields, past the Sixfields Stadium on the right to the major roundabout. Take right turn onto A4500 for the Town Centre. Follow signs to Saints car park.

From the North: Exit M1 at junction 16 and follow the A45 to Northampton and follow signs to Town Centre at major traffic island. Then directions as for the South.

Rail: Turn right out of station. Follow road past the Thomas A Beckett public house, (pop in and buy me one!) Church's shoe factory and the bus station into a shopping area where you will see yellow signs to Saints car park.

Or ask a policeman!

AND FINALLY..................

The last word goes to Marlowes and WMS

Jannie, Jannie de Beer

The sons of the prophet were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest of these from Vicarage Road
Was named Jannie, Jannie de Beer

This son of the Springboks, in battle aroused,
Could kick 100 metres I fear
A terrible creature, both sober and soused
Was Jannie, Jannie de Beer.

When they needed a man to encourage the van,
Or to harass the Saints from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt, they had only to shout
For Jannie, Jannie de Beer

There are heroes aplenty and men known to fame
In the playersvled by Smudger Czar;
But the bravest of these was a man, if you please
Called Matt Dawson, nicknamed Jar-Jar.

He could clear out the scrum, play inside and out
And ref the game better by far.
In fact, quite the cream of the Northampton team
Was Matt Dawson, nicknamed Jar-Jar.

The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few;
He could drink them all under the bar.
As Scrumhalf or Tank, there was no one to rank
With Matt Dawson, nicknamed Jar-Jar.

One day this bold Saint had silvered his shoes
And donned his most truculent sneer
To Franklins he did go, where he trod on the toe
Of Jannie, Jannie de Beer

"Young man," quoth Jannie, "has life grown so dull,
That you're anxious to end your career?
Vile Saint you should know, you have trod on the toe
Of Jannie, Jannie de Beer."

"So take your last peek at the Gardens so chic
And send your regrets to the Czar;
By this I imply you are going to die,
Matt Dawson, nicknamed Jar-Jar."

Quoth Mattie, "My friend, your remarks, in the end,
Will avail Sorries little, I fear,
For you ne'er will survive to repeat them alive,
Jannie, Jannie de Beer

Then this bold Fezhead Said “Matt Dawson, you’re dead”
With a cry of "Go Arasa!”
And with murderous intent, he ferociously went
for Matt Dawson nicknamed Jar-Jar.

They tackled and rucked and they side-stepped and cussed
'Till their blood would have filled a great pot.
The SkyTV blokes, who seldom crack jokes,
Say the Zippee was lost on that spot.

They fought all that night, 'neath the Gardens Floodlight;
The din, it was heard from afar;
And great multitudes came, to witness the game
‘Twixt Jannie and hero Jar-Jar.

As Jannie’s left hand squeezed Matt’s reproductive gland
In fact, he was shouting "Huzzah!" - -
He felt himself struck in the back of the ruck,
by Matt Dawson nicknamed Jar-Jar..

The Fezheads clapped hands, from their seats in the stands,
Expecting the victor to cheer;
But as they drew nigh they just heard the last sigh
Of Jannie, Jannie de Beer.

Czar Smudger, too, in his tracksuit of blue
Ran down from the South Stand’s top row.
He arrived just in time, a new contract to sign
With Matt Dawson nicknamed Jar-Jar.

A loud-sounding splash from the Lakeside was heard
Resounding o'er far and near;
It came from the plans of those misguided fans
Of Jannie, Jannie de Beer.

There's a tomb rises up where the Grand Union flows;
Engraved there in characters clear;
"Ah stranger, when passing, please pray for the souls
Of Saracens from far and near."

A Hertfordshire maiden her lone vigil keeps,
As she drinks of that flat Watford Beer;
And the name that she murmurs as oft as she weeps
Is Jannie, Jannie de Beer.

-----------------------------------------------------

The Beast

In a quaint little town they call Watford
There lives, or so everyone says,
A ruddy great,humpty backed creature
That's taken to wearing a Fez.

It prowls round the Vicarage gardens
Before the rugger begins
Then creeps up behind little children
And frightens them out of their skins.

But they've now found a way to control it
Though they're taking a bit of a chance,
To the open they send lovely ladies,
'Vestal Virgins' who then start to dance.

This lures the vile, evil monster
Away from the kids in the stands
They're not sure if it's smell that attracts him
There's enormous effects on his glands.

Incantation upon the loudspeaker
In a whiny, high pitched little voice
Domino's Pizza to tempt it
Though Deep Pan's my personal choice.

Then out of the heavens comes music
Appearing to soothe the cruel beast.
It runs to the bowels of the Rous Stand
There in safety to gorge on its feast.

Not many have seen this foul demon
To the Vicarage few folk draw near
And those brave enough to confront it
Are too frightened to raise up a cheer.

It is said that the beast sometimes wanders
And far from its lair it will stray
There is talk that soon it will venture
To hunt around Northampton way.

But there it will find stiff resistance
From that brave Midland warrior race
No they shall not balk from the creature
They'll meet it head on - face to face.

Though they've recently suffered a set-back
There is nothing for which to feel shame
They will vanquish Sarrie the Camel
For that is the humpty beasts name.

WMS