Poems for Rugby Sevens in Hong Kong, March 2009


I dunno even if France won, but I work in Causeway Bay, and every March is Drunken Gweilo Day! Yay! Actually, some chaps are several sheets to the wind, like Nelson at Trafalgar (“kiss me Hardy, ye great big yob”) but on the whole the crowd is friendly and jolly.

Here is some original verse to celebrate the occasion, inspired at first by all the Drunk Chaps…and a lovely French girl with the Tricoloeur painted on her taut Belly.

In old Hong Kong, down in Causeway Bay
They celebrate Drunken Gweilo Day.
Chaps and lassies, blokes, Mamas, Papas, and coots
All cheer, hip hip hurray
As the sturdy lads play
Rugby, on Drunken Gweilo Day.

There was a chap and he was drunk
Woke up naked in a steamer trunk
Who woulda thunk, thunked he
At being so suddenly
Starkers in a steamer trunk?

There was a sporting girl from France
Who wore excessively abbreviated pants.
Mon dieu said Mama:
Sacred blue, cried Uncle Bob:
Death of my life cried Papa…
Such alarm was created in France!

C’est une jeune femme sportif de la belle France
Avec les culottes miniscule…on dit, les hontes.
Mon dieu dit Mama:
Sacre bleu dit l’Oncle Bob:
Mort de ma vie c’est la cri du vielle Papa
Voila l’extremetie
Voila le scandale
On dit “l’hontissance”
Qu’existet en la beau pays de la vielle France!

Et un autre femme sportif en France
Painted le tricoleur sur elles abdominance
Honi soit, je croite, honi soit, je pense, qui mal y pense
Au la pittrice nubile
C’est pas abominable: c’est toujours formidable
C’est pour la Gloire de les jouers de Rugby de France!

There was a chap at the Rugby Sevenses
Got so squiffled he spewed his elevenses
I say, said he,
I’ve room for me Tea,
That disgusting fellow at the Rugby Sevenses.

[Y’know, they say French girls don’t shave. Do I care?]

There is a girl who lives in the Ritz
She does not shave under her armpits.
I live at the Crillon
And don’t shave me own
So confusion to all foes of the girl in the Ritz
Confound their politics
And frustrate their Knavish Tricks
And sing the praises of the Girl in the Ritz!

There is a Russian girl of Montmartre
Who does not know beans about art.
“Mon dieu elle est nu” she cried at the Louvre
That ne kulterni girl of Montmartre!

There is a German girl and she’s a resident of France
But she came to China for to sing and for to dance
In honor of her mighty lads of the German Rugby team.
It’s for the stout and stalwart ones this Fraulein has come to scream!
She’s dressed in just a little Finery.
It reveals her golden limbs,
And she’s drunk her Dinner at zee Bierstube undt die winery!
Zo with a Rhenish Maiden’s voice she is heard in Causeway to scream and to shout
A mighty Hoch Hoch Hoch which overwhelms the crowt!
“We’re singen undt wir Tanzen fur der jungen Mensch
Undt even zo for zee scrawny vuns zat zit upon zee Bensch!”
Surely the Norns did weave, surely they broke the mold
When they made zis Deutschelandt Fraulein who doesn’t mind the cold!

[There was a bit of nonsense, but it wasn’t the fans, it was the Rugby players]

And when the Players hit Wanchai the bouncers called the Riot Squad
The Police they charged with truncheons to defend their China sod,
The Players put up a stern old Fight but they went down
Town to Chinatown in Black Marias and Paddy Waggons painted brown!

The players languished in prison, the punters were in jail
The rugger chaps were in clink with a common water pail
They came to in the morning and were left off with a warning
To behave theirselves henceforth from now on and in the future!

Edward G. Nilges 29 March 2009. Moral rights been asserted, so don’t start with me. You know how I get.

25 April 2009: thx to Greg man for assistance with French


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