An Ode to English Rugby

Your culturally-aware and super-sensitive Pedant-General was sorely tempted to post this piece of rampant triumphalism, sent to him by his sister. To post it now, when even the post-match hangovers have long since cleared, seems really unnecessarily offensive to those poor English souls, suffering so miserably from discrimination at every turn.

But those cheeky DSTPFW chaps have raised a related topic so here goes:

Ye came up here tae paradise
Tae beat us at your game
A' wind and pash and full of shit
Yer aw the blinking same
Ye caw yersels the champions
The nations most elite
Scotland are the champions
Yuv just been phukin beat

A game that wis invented
Fur English gentlemen
No Highland Jocks wi tartan frocks
Well bliddy think again
A baw that's shapit like an egg
Its jist a stupit farse
A suppose it maks it easier
Tae ram right up yer erse

So get back hame an lick yer wounds
Yer a bunch o stupit fools
It's time fur ye tae cheat again
Tae change the phukin rools
Rugby, fitba, cricket tae
Yer jist a shower o chancers
Stick tae whit ye dae the best
Ye morris phukin dancers