Juke Box
Rare Old Times
When I was getting of an age my boots to lock away.
A gilt-edged invitation card came through my door to say
‘Us lads have all decided your services we need
To join us in preserving the old-time rugby creed
So pass the port my comrades
Fond memory we incline
To drink the health of Strollers
And these rare old times
And so I joined that company of gentlemen renowned.
Whose spotless reputation extends the country round
`Whose watchword’s proved each weekend as victory they
Old age by treachery o’er youthful vigour can prevail [hail
Our hair if there sports every shade from grey to purest
white.
We’ll play the game like lions, then like camels sup
And while we roar in chorus self-adulating song [all night
No unattended pint or female stands alone for long
I’ve supped excess of bitter, the lager’s dimmed my brain
But still we go on playing this rare old young man’s game
Our noses broken, backs, knees gone, our eyesight’s going
down but the vital bits still work girls, so don’t be leaving town