(With token apologies to the 1804 work of William Wordsworth.)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside those walls, that hallowed ground,
Where the Warriors of Wales are found.
Then Lo! I saw as in a dream
Narcissi morph, reshape anew,
And turn into a Rugby team,
Attired in very finest hue;
Resplendent red with golden bands
Befitting to the Cambrian lands.
And then across the hills and vales
A patriotic roar arose.
For before those Daffodils of Wales
There stood a field of English Rose;
In Twickenham, the English heart,
Where none, save Sassenachs, dare fart.
When eighty minutes had passed by
The wilted Rose was well subdued.
And oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
Once more my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.