Fourie du Preez: O that we now had here
But ten more men to face these All Blacks!
Heyneke Meyer: What’s he that wishes so?
My captain, Fourie du Preez? No, my fair captain;
If we are mark’d to lose, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to win,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
Mandela’s will! Ek se, wish not one man more.
Jislaaik, I am not covetous for another term,
Nor care I rocks about entertaining rugby;
Ek is min gepla if the okes don't like my team;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet the Webb-Ellis trophy,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, vasbyt my captain, wish not a man to add.
Bliksem! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Fourie, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach for this match,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not lose in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to lose with us.
This day is call’d the RWC semifinal.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Webb-Ellis.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “Tomorrow is the day we beat the All Blacks.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had in that semifinal.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Fourie the captain, Habana and Schalk,
Etzebeth and Lood, De Allende and Kriel -
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the Springbok fan teach his son;
And no RWC shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered -
We few, we happy few, we band of Bokke;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my boet ; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And players back home playing Curriebeker
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon this RWC semifinal day.
Go Bokke!


