Front-row forwards! Front-row props!
Such short squat men are always tops.
Tough, and mean as highway cops.
Their clothes must come from custom shops.
At training his gut flips and flops.
His studs on concrete crunch and clops.
For shuttle runs, he rarely opts.
All those @#$%&*! starts and stops!
Given the chance he quietly lops
off any drill. He's got the strops.
When matchday ends he quickly hops
into the club, and weary, plops
down in a loungechair like my Pop's.
Where there he'll rest to drink down drops.
Some props like rum and some like hops.
Most do drink beer. A few drink slops.
Their mess requires many mops!
And as the nightclub rocks and bops,
they seek out girls with riding crops.
These brave bad men are always tops.
They'd be the last blokes our coach drops.
So here's to front-row forwards. Props!
(c) MrsMyth, TJ McGowan
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