Tonga Bob
Blacula Stan Account
- Oct 26, 2013
- 28,006
- 68,485
- AFL Club
- Fremantle
- Other Teams
- SFFC, LFC, ADO, CI Warriors
- Moderator
- #1
Once upon a round a’floating, of a season cold and bloating,
I ignore the constant gloating and ponder things that could have been.
As this season goes down the sink the images that make me drink
Flash by, and soon I think of things that I have seen.
Of games and plays and incidents I wish could be unseen.
And so I wake up from this dream.
Ah, distinctly I recall of that game when odds were small
That our team would slip & fall in the round after the bye.
It was prevailing wisdom that we would defeat Brisbane,
But our chances we did kiss ‘em for a victory goodbye,
It was at that very moment where our season waved goodbye.
And it almost made me cry.
And then there was last week where, for three quarters we were so weak
That we were like twenty-two sheep that were led to a frozen slaughter.
It was so abysmal that we made wolves of timid cats.
Turning men into witches hats, embarrassing purple sons and daughters.
Geelong was an Olympic swimming team and Freo was the water.
Tepid lifeless water.
I was on the verge of sleeping after weeks of almost weeping,
With nothing much still keeping me from wishing season’s end.
So imagine my surprise when, before my very eyes,
Into my house there flies a little feathered friend.
A little black and white and sharply-pointed beaked friend.
Very hard to comprehend.
It took some time to identify this new friend as a Magpie,
Which then led me to clarify “Haven’t I met you once before?”
But my curiosity grew as, instead of answering true,
The Magpie then upped and flew and perched above my man-cave door.
Perched above a bust of Pavlich just above my man-cave door.
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
With curiosity unsated I continued unabated
To ask, but still I waited on the bird’s migratory choices.
I asked “What is the mystery of your recent playing history?
The logic must have missed me, so please can you raise your voices?
Please now tell me why you’re here in your loudest avian voices?”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
The Magpie, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one sound, as if his goal was in that sound to bring forth forces.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
‘Til I scarcely more than muttered “Other games have run their courses—
On the morrow you will beat me, and my season lays exhausted.”
Then the bird said *magpie noises*
I didn’t know what to make of the Magpie’s squawky take,
So I gave it another shake – “Come on Magpie tell me why.
Once already you did meet us and already you did beat us,
Must you – MUST you now repeat this?” I said, followed by a sigh,
Then that stupid black and white bird looked me squarely in the eye:
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
I continued. “If you must return then get off Pavlich’s bust
And then pretty soon I trust you’ll tell me more of victory’s causes.
I beseech you to begin to tell me how you’re going to win,
Who’s the players out and in, what’s your game plan to exploit us?
Put your money where your beak is and explain how you’ll exploit us.”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
“Why do you inflict this pain? Was it because we gave you Mayne?
He seems to have been a gain, when you thought he was a hack.
Jimmy Clement was a heist, you got Medhurst who was nice,
And Tarrant – not once but twice! Don’t forget we gave him back!
Reinvented him as a defender then we went and gave him back.
We should’ve returned bloody Jack!”
“Tell me, can we make an offer from our bursting coin-filled coffers
For you to leave old mate Joffa’s golden coat and hat behind?
If you gave us a fair go we’d do anything, you know.
We’d watch Eddie’s every show and we’ll like it (at least we’ll try!).
We cannot guarantee it but we swear that we will try.”
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
“We will not find too frustrating any one-eyed commentating.
You will find us uncomplaining about Ed’s & Shawy’s voices.
You’ll have little fear of biased decision making from umpires,
Like you we also tire of talk of affirmation noises.
Reserved solely for the morally corrupt are affirmation noises.”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
“We have players who’ll retire at the end of this dumpster fire
Of a season” I conspire to inform this feathered guy.
“There’ll be lots of salty tears when Johnno & Spurry say cheers,
And we have the last ‘Out: Pearce’ as our Danyle says goodbye.
Will you give us this last victory for our warriors’ goodbye?”
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
“Be that noise our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back to Victoria Park and leave me to my unhealthy choices!
Leave no black or white plumes as signs to remind me of these End Times!
So make like the King of Mimes and quit your mocking squawky voices!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and shut your damn infernal voices!”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
So in short this team depleted will be comfortably defeated
As this season is completed on a record of eight and fourteen.
Some improvement was displayed from our purple youth brigade,
And we look forward to trade week and the drafting of more teens.
Drafting and recruiting of bright eyed and bushy tailed teens.
They best be bloody keen.
And the Magpie, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pavlich just above my man-cave door.
And his eyes have all the life of the knee that brought great strife
To the leg of Nathan Fyfe, an act deliberate for sure;
Like that leg my season’s broken, pieces lying on the floor
And shall be lifted—nevermore!
I ignore the constant gloating and ponder things that could have been.
As this season goes down the sink the images that make me drink
Flash by, and soon I think of things that I have seen.
Of games and plays and incidents I wish could be unseen.
And so I wake up from this dream.
Ah, distinctly I recall of that game when odds were small
That our team would slip & fall in the round after the bye.
It was prevailing wisdom that we would defeat Brisbane,
But our chances we did kiss ‘em for a victory goodbye,
It was at that very moment where our season waved goodbye.
And it almost made me cry.
And then there was last week where, for three quarters we were so weak
That we were like twenty-two sheep that were led to a frozen slaughter.
It was so abysmal that we made wolves of timid cats.
Turning men into witches hats, embarrassing purple sons and daughters.
Geelong was an Olympic swimming team and Freo was the water.
Tepid lifeless water.
I was on the verge of sleeping after weeks of almost weeping,
With nothing much still keeping me from wishing season’s end.
So imagine my surprise when, before my very eyes,
Into my house there flies a little feathered friend.
A little black and white and sharply-pointed beaked friend.
Very hard to comprehend.
It took some time to identify this new friend as a Magpie,
Which then led me to clarify “Haven’t I met you once before?”
But my curiosity grew as, instead of answering true,
The Magpie then upped and flew and perched above my man-cave door.
Perched above a bust of Pavlich just above my man-cave door.
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
With curiosity unsated I continued unabated
To ask, but still I waited on the bird’s migratory choices.
I asked “What is the mystery of your recent playing history?
The logic must have missed me, so please can you raise your voices?
Please now tell me why you’re here in your loudest avian voices?”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
The Magpie, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one sound, as if his goal was in that sound to bring forth forces.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
‘Til I scarcely more than muttered “Other games have run their courses—
On the morrow you will beat me, and my season lays exhausted.”
Then the bird said *magpie noises*
I didn’t know what to make of the Magpie’s squawky take,
So I gave it another shake – “Come on Magpie tell me why.
Once already you did meet us and already you did beat us,
Must you – MUST you now repeat this?” I said, followed by a sigh,
Then that stupid black and white bird looked me squarely in the eye:
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
I continued. “If you must return then get off Pavlich’s bust
And then pretty soon I trust you’ll tell me more of victory’s causes.
I beseech you to begin to tell me how you’re going to win,
Who’s the players out and in, what’s your game plan to exploit us?
Put your money where your beak is and explain how you’ll exploit us.”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
“Why do you inflict this pain? Was it because we gave you Mayne?
He seems to have been a gain, when you thought he was a hack.
Jimmy Clement was a heist, you got Medhurst who was nice,
And Tarrant – not once but twice! Don’t forget we gave him back!
Reinvented him as a defender then we went and gave him back.
We should’ve returned bloody Jack!”
“Tell me, can we make an offer from our bursting coin-filled coffers
For you to leave old mate Joffa’s golden coat and hat behind?
If you gave us a fair go we’d do anything, you know.
We’d watch Eddie’s every show and we’ll like it (at least we’ll try!).
We cannot guarantee it but we swear that we will try.”
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
“We will not find too frustrating any one-eyed commentating.
You will find us uncomplaining about Ed’s & Shawy’s voices.
You’ll have little fear of biased decision making from umpires,
Like you we also tire of talk of affirmation noises.
Reserved solely for the morally corrupt are affirmation noises.”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
“We have players who’ll retire at the end of this dumpster fire
Of a season” I conspire to inform this feathered guy.
“There’ll be lots of salty tears when Johnno & Spurry say cheers,
And we have the last ‘Out: Pearce’ as our Danyle says goodbye.
Will you give us this last victory for our warriors’ goodbye?”
*magpie noises* quoth the Magpie.
“Be that noise our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back to Victoria Park and leave me to my unhealthy choices!
Leave no black or white plumes as signs to remind me of these End Times!
So make like the King of Mimes and quit your mocking squawky voices!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and shut your damn infernal voices!”
Quoth the Magpie: *magpie noises*
So in short this team depleted will be comfortably defeated
As this season is completed on a record of eight and fourteen.
Some improvement was displayed from our purple youth brigade,
And we look forward to trade week and the drafting of more teens.
Drafting and recruiting of bright eyed and bushy tailed teens.
They best be bloody keen.
And the Magpie, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pavlich just above my man-cave door.
And his eyes have all the life of the knee that brought great strife
To the leg of Nathan Fyfe, an act deliberate for sure;
Like that leg my season’s broken, pieces lying on the floor
And shall be lifted—nevermore!
