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On The Day of All Days Scotland Could Not Be Beat ©

Scotland 18 England 12

Robbie Kennedy Bennett
Wolverhampton, England

Tartan kilts swirled as they played,
The drums beat loud and the pipers parade.
We stood as we watched, a few yards did they pass,
Their tune through the tunnel when leaving the grass.
Did echo around ten times of the sound,
Stimulating our hearts as they marched from the ground.

The February wind was bleak,
On the day of all days no man could be weak.
The Calcutta Cup at Murrayfield ground,
St George and St Andrew flew all around.
Out of the closet old sweaters were worn,
Some were well soiled, faded and torn.

English or Scot, some stood together,
Soon forgetting the February weather.
Who will be first to score and draw blood?
Ready to battle, they all understood.

It was like a military order,
Pride was at stake each side of the border.

Over the floodlit stand was Edinburgh Castle and Arthurs Seat.
Then the battle commenced, a Scottish or English defeat.

The boys in blue would not surrender and die,
The Scots roared on and the Saltire flags flew high.
When a white shirt got passed a blue brought him to ground,
The Scots were so vocal they cheered all around.

On the day of all days Scotland could not be beat,
On the day of all days they would'nt accept an English defeat.
The February wind no longer mattered,
Thousands of souls were shell shocked and shattered.

And tartan kilts swirled and they swayed,
After a tough game of rugby was played.

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