By Angel Shark
December 23 2005

'Tis the season to be merry. For some, however, the indulgence must be tempered by the knowledge that they have a job to do on Boxing Day. That job being to consolidate Sale's position at the top of the Premiership. Angel Shark dons flashing red nose and gives full vent to the muse...
Twas the week before Christmas, when all round the ground
Not a creature was stirring, not even a hound,
The stockings were slung in the washbasket with care,
In hopes that the kit man soon would be there.
The supporters were making their way to the tent,
Although real ale was more to their bent,
And CE in her 'kerchief, and Swanny in his cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter's nap...
When out on the pitch there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from The Oak to see what was the matter.
Away to the Vernon I flew like a flash,
Threw open the gate with an almighty crash.
The moon in the sky was all of a glow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
But the team of Sale sponsored by McAfee,
With a wily manager, so strong of will,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Phil.
More rapid than eagles his players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Robbo! now, Maggie! now Seabass and Big Red!
On, Frank! on Schoey! on, Jonesy and Large Ed!
To the top of the league! to the final of the cup!
Now dash away! dash away! we're on the way up!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up against Northampton the coursers they flew,
With the lads full of courage, and St. Phillipe too.
And then, in a twinkling, the whistle did blow
The game was afoot and forward they go.
As I shouted their names, and looked all around,
Down to the pitch St. Phil came with a bound.
He was dressed all in navy, from his head to his toe,
To the dugout to give orders he did go.
A league of nations on the pitch and the bench,
English and Scottish, Yorkshire and French.
His eyes -- how they twinkled -- his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! [it was cold!]
Our men showed no signs of a Christmas binge,
But I'm sure on the breeze I heard Squeaky whinge... [too good an opportunity to miss!]
The Legend that is Robbie D had managed the trip.
The bottle of water he held in his grip,
A broad smiling face and a handshake for all
Ey up Robbie! here comes the ball!
The mulled wine was poured and the mince pies shared
Everyone chatted, and everyone cared
'Shirt off your Back' tickets were bought
I'll win this one week I hopefully thought
The team spoke not a word, but went straight to their task,
And played like champions, what more could you ask?
The result of the match well? who knows,
A magnificent win we can only suppose.
At the end of the game the ref gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard them exclaim, as they ran out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"


Clement C. Moore (with apologies from Angel Shark)