The monstrous mountain of steel taunting your feet,
Seems like trekking Everest to get to your seat,
As the mind fizzling excitement reaches its peak,
Bellowing announcements, unexplainable predictions and the hotdogs mind numbing reek,
The immense cloud like ram on the pitch ambling and strutting around,
Peaceful sound waves of welsh carolling,
Hymners releasing their soothing sound,
The evil fire breathing dragons conquering all cheeks,
Along with luminescent daffodils and dazzling radiant leeks,
The vast glistening roof awakens, it opens its eyes,
Welcoming bright dazzling rays of the skies,
The spotless practice ball screaming as it glides through the air,
As the shrill cheers signal for the cruel flamethrowers flare,
The blinding light and scalding heat combined,
The flamethrowers deafening burn horrible and unkind,
Out shoot the fireworks dancing and jigging, lighting up the sky,
Sambaing and flipping with colours clouding high,
The red and white ball from the sky roof parachuting down to the floor,
Just as the colossal welsh players jog out with a ground trembling roar,
The booming national anthem makes the seats all snap shut,
Screaming the lyrics from their heart soul and gut,
Radiant red shirts line up in tactical formation,
Taking their positions depending on the coin toss situation,
The whistle to the players like ignition on a sports car,
As the ball goes flying through the posts into the crowd afar,
The murky ball sprints out of the ruck and leaps towards the scrum half,
Then he jumps to the back row and makes his way through the hand path,
The whistle shouts and the ball has a lifelong break,
As the dragons in the stands make the vast ground shake,
Time for the jumbotron to step in taking its victims straight from the stands,
The humiliation of those straight off the plane with their heads in their hands,
The minute emerald trimmed grass starting a Mexican wave with the wind,
Just before its cut again, before it becomes skinned,
The dragons in their glory with a historical legendary win,
The deafening songs and almighty chants in their almighty din,
Then the dazzling seats are emptyand their mouths remain shut,
The floodlights dim and all that’s left is the radiance from the monstrous players hut,
Now the sun’s dazzling rays pass and they tag in the moon,
With a shimmering wink to show they’ll be back soon,
To shine upon the glistening six nations and grand slam golden trophy once again!
By Kieran Moon
