‘Twas down at Hoppers last Saturday evening

A grizzled veteran I chanced to spy

A pint of Theakstons I set before him

He looked at me, and commenced to cry

‘We wear no logos, no costly jerseys,

No sponsored tracksuits, no none at all

We just play rugby the way it should be

A band of comrades and an ovoid ball’

I don’t like Mondays, weekdays or Sundays,

‘Tis Saturdays that me enthrall

Green shirt I don it, six-nine upon it

And make fair sport with the ovoid ball

The name they call us, Grasshoppers Strollers

Each one I’d trust with my heart and soul……

Though not my wallet, still less your daughters

For it’s all for one, and it’s one for all.