2005
The evening sun watched the spreading news
through Pall Mall, Gardens, Walks, and Mews
of the jerseys sporting quarter hues.
It was the day the Quins went out.
For a moment, the Thames stopped, too,
the gardeners bowed, tears flowed in Kew.
crowds of silent people grew,
murmuring ‘Is it true about the Quins?’
Buses stood as if in a trance,
bands played Pomp and Circumstance,
wet eyed uncles, weeping aunts
clutching handkerchiefs embroidered with a ‘Q’(or an ‘H’) .
Flags were flown at three-quarter mast,
Inter City’s blew a fullback blast,
London’s pigeons stood aghast
and Nelson’s Column copied the tower in Pisa.
Tearful matrons clasped a triple gin,
ignoring biscuits in the tin,
for they’d dreamed of marrying a Harlequin
when they were teenage girls.
Egg and muffin MCC,
cress and cucumber, Earl Grey tea,
they sipped and munched in misery.
‘Terrible news, old chap.’
‘Crusty’ Buffing wiped away a tear,
as he did when Elgar came to Brighton pier,
‘a triple Scotch to bring me some cheer…
Ah, - who went down…?
General Sir Holdya-Hoarse
‘The Army could help you out, of course,
the Artillery if they’re out in force
might blow up the Shogun’s stadium…
for no charge, old chap.’
Admiral Mark Water-Low
‘Let the frigates have a go,
I’ll turn the Channel into Scarpa Flow,
flatten anything in Bath.’
'Ah, Sir, it’s the Shoguns…’
‘Guns? Plenty of them on the Bismarck.’
‘Sir, it's not ours; it’s on the seabed, too.’
Air Marshall Roger Copy-Thatt
‘An Exocet should knock them flat,
then Middlesex can opt to bat,
take advantage of the wicket.’
‘Excuse me, Sir, it’s rugby.’
‘Rugby? Warwickshire. Right. Set course, arm weapons, check, tally ho.’
Across La Manche, gare, brasserie,
le militaire, gendarmerie
‘Vous avez entendus?’ ‘Ah, oui.
Londres. Bon courage.’
Around Snowdonia’s bars and inns
‘Haf you hirrd, the Harrlequins?’
Ninety-two year Aneurin: ‘Harlech twins?
Forget their names, nice girls, they were;
I had a crush on the eldest, fifty-eight years ago,
I did, but she got to marry Jeremiah Jones, he
had more money than me, you see.’
Shut up, you old fool.
‘What? Pontypool? They went to Pontypool? I didn’t know that.’
Idiot.
‘What? Oh, iechyd da to you, boy.’
In the rural tavernas around Aberdare
through the smoke and Felinfoel oil air.
‘The Quins went down.’. ‘Went down where?’
(Emrys, aged 19, Art and Design GCSE)
The oyster men of Swansea Bay
distressed, gave next morning’s catch away
and told quiet old ladies, ‘There’s no need to pay’
as they placed shellfish, two handed, into the wicker baskets.
In Beijing, Chinese President Hu,
his complexion now an ashen hue,
not pleased to hear that the Shoguns went through
‘Su moh? Shogun? Ribenren? Wo bu yao Shogun.
Wo yao Harlequingoren. Shogun, chow kai.
Harlequingoren, wo ai nie.’
In Wellington, Miss Helen Clarke:
‘In rugby history, the Quins left their mark.
I propose, Mr Speaker, that Harlequins Park
be the new name of our capital city.’
In Canberra, the MPs rushed a new Bill through,
the national crest was designed anew
with a (yes, it’s true) Harle-kanga-quingeroo
emblazoned on the national flag.
In the Barbican, the RPO
playing largo, pianissimo,
Barber (orchestral arrangement) Adagio,
till someone pointed out he wasn’t English.
In unhappiness that comes rare to me,
I thought ‘Yes, a Harlequin Rhapsody,’
the tune and some words I borrowed (for free)
and this is what I wrote.
Nobody in Twickenham builds ships and boats,
the youth are so illiterate; they can’t jot down any notes,
everybody in Twickenham’s in despair, every girl and boy,
but in the rest of England when the Quins go down ... (ellipsis; means ‘wait for it’)
everybody’s gonna jump for joy.
Now sing it.
Come all, without; come all, within;
you’ll not see nothing like the Mighty Quin (sic)
Everybody, come all, without; come all, within,
Repeat and fade
Epilogue
But in western England granite mire,
in east-west Cotswolds fleece coat choir,
in Mercia too, they mock enquire
‘The Quins? Oh, really, such a pity.’
But from where northern rainstorms blow,
where Lesley Garrett warms the snow,
the one expression Rotherham know...
bugger the bloody Quins.
