The Ballad of The Rugby Brutes

 He stands by the tri-lines

'cause he didn't try hard enough

His boots were black 

and made from his blood

and the boots are seen

by the edge of the green

But seldom ever seen in the mud

 

The swain of his 

who sits in the stalls

With tears to her god

and her hands by her breast

Come from the field

and move his heels

As a brute, your just a silhouette

 

At sound he gave

the blues come in

To pull the brutes up

from their sin

The fact they came

through the storms and the rain

is part of life and mind of him

 

With their heavy hands and 

their shirts so green

They look like the beasts

that come from the sea

They want that she

from up in the seats

and to be with until she be

 

This trinity, I see 

is no holy ghost 

I see a lonely man

standing by the coast

and the rugby boots

and the lonely brutes

heed that girl 'cause her man he don't.