Funerals can truly be augmented by a poem that is apt and fitting for the person you have just lost. The following list of funeral poems about rugby are for those who lived for playing or watching that game with the oval ball.
Green And Hallowed Land
by Mark Gregory
O rugged field where warriors tread,
Where battles fierce and passions spread,
In ruck and maul, with might and grace,
Rugby’s spirit finds its place.
Oh oval ball, a symbol true,
Of unity in actions due,
From scrum to lineout, swift and bold,
A tale of comradeship unfolds.
The clash of brawn, the clash of wills,
Upon this turf, the heart instills,
A sense of pride, a common thread,
As bodies strain and muscles spread.
In unity, the team converges,
As forwards push and backs emerge,
From try to try, they charge ahead,
No foe too fierce, no challenge fled.
With every sprint, with every leap,
Their promises and dreams they keep,
With valour’s fire in every eye,
They face the foe, they touch the sky.
Oh Captain! Lead this fearless crew,
Through mud and rain, and skies of blue,
Upon this green and hallowed land,
The scene of countless battles grand.
The Rugby Player’s Last Try
by Michael Ashby
The rugby ball inside the coffin
Rather gave the game away
As a diehard rugby warrior
Determined to play on in future days
Believing there was more than one H in heaven
At the ends of astral turf grounds
And that the rugby universe cup
Was still in its early rounds
After a lifetime that had seemed eighty minutes
With a body clock now in the red
The gladiator scored his last mortal try
Touching his head down on mother earth’s bed.
The Rugby Prayer
Author Unknown
Our ball which art oval
Gilbert be thy name
Thy will be kicked
They will be passed
On this pitch as it is at Twickenham
Give us this day our many tries
And forgive us our fouls
As we forgive the ref who notices them
Lead us not into touch
But deliver us from penalties
For thine is the try line
The goal kick and the glory
Ruck over and over
Amen.
When The Battle Scars Have Faded
by Rupert McCall
When the battle scars have faded
And the truth becomes a lie
And the weekend smell of liniment
Could almost make you cry.
When the last ruck’s well behind you
And the man that ran now walks
It doesn’t matter who you are
The mirror sometimes talks
Have a good hard look old son!
The melons not that great
The snoz that takes a sharp turn sideways
Used to be dead straight
You’re an advert for arthritis
You’re a thoroughbred gone lame
Then you ask yourself the question
Why the hell you played the game?
Was there logic in the head knocks?
In the corks and in the cuts?
Did common sense get pushed aside?
By manliness and guts?
Do you sometimes sit and wonder
Why your time would often pass
In a tangled mess of bodies
With your head up someone’s?
With a thumb hooked up your nostril
Scratching gently on your brain
And an overgrown Neanderthal
Rejoicing in your pain!
Mate – you must recall the jersey
That was shredded into rags
Then the soothing sting of Dettol
On a back engraved with tags!
It’s almost worth admitting
Though with some degree of shame
That your wife was right in asking
Why the hell you played the game?
Why you’d always rock home legless
Like a cow on roller skates
After drinking at the clubhouse
With your low-down drunken mates (censor kicked in!)
Then you’d wake up – check your wallet
Not a solitary coin
Drink bitter by the bucket
Throw an ice pack on your groin
Copping Sunday morning sermons
About boozers being losers
While you limped like Quasimodo
With a half a thousand bruises!
Yes – an urge to hug the porcelain
And curse Tetley’s name
Would always pose the question
Why the hell you played the game!
And yet with every wound re-opened
As you grimly reminisce it
Comes the most compelling feeling yet
God, you bloody miss it!
From the first time that you laced a boot
And tightened every stud
That virus known as rugby
Has been living in your blood
When you dreamt it when you played it
All the rest took second fiddle
Now you’re standing on the side-line
But your hearts still in the middle
And no matter where you travel
You can take it as expected
There will always be a breed of people
Hopelessly infected
If there’s a teammate, then you’ll find him
Like a gravitating force
With a common understanding
And a beer or three, of course
And as you stand there telling lies
Like it was yesterday old friend
You’ll know that if you had the chance
You’d do it all again
You see – that’s the thing with rugby
It will always be the same
And that, I guarantee
Is why the hell you played the game!
To access our full list of funeral poems, click here.
All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. Should you require a celebrant for your ceremony, be it a funeral, a wedding, a naming ceremony or something else, feel free to get in touch. I am a double award-nominated Family and Funeral Celebrant covering the entire UK, and would be happy to help you commemorate in a meaningful and personal way.
