The Cat From Sleepy Hollow

[warooa]

The Cat from Sleepy Hollow,
he thought he had the cream,
and all his fans would follow
his Hawk-defying team.

But something to remember -
the Cat talked up "The Curse",
but into sweet September
such hexes can reverse.

So back to Sleepy Hollow
and off September's stage.
Mad Monday which to wallow
and handbags flung in rage.

Yes, Sleepy Hollow's mourning,
the cat now stalks a dove.
It's too late for a warning
of circling Hawks above.

And see the smile on Clarko
while Scotty's none too happy.
The look on Travis Varcoe:
"Where's Tomahawk or Chappy?".

Yes, back to Sleepy Hollow
and your stadium called "Skilled"
A loss that's hard to swallow
as the Kennet Curse is killed

[Stephen Whiteside]

Dragging out the handbags?
That's a little cruel!
The Hawks are tasting caviar.
The Cats are munching gruel.

But likening these heroes
To those losers of the 80s
Is comparing Jims to Jennifers,
Or Keiths and Kens to Katies.

And before the girls get shirty,
And call me Mr Rabbit
There's nothing wrong with sheilas
Picking up the footy habit,

But they need to play each other,
And never tackle men.
(I wonder in five hundred years,
Just how we'll play it then?)

But, getting back to handbags,
I thought that term had died.
Those recent premierships have brought
Some well deserved pride.

Those handbags never won a flag.
It's bad as Colliwobbles.
Barney killed off that one, too.
It shows how victory gobbles

All those wretched epithets
For players who fall short.
The ones that get me most are those
Who say it's "only sport"!

[warooa]

Those handbags may be history
but images remain
of ghosts of past Septembers
and the everlasting pain.

How Yeatsy cleaned up Dermie
back in 1989.
Then Ablett Senior earnt his nickname,
slotting them devine.

But Dipper with a puntured lung
and broken ribs for Derm,
were six points up - the siren sounded
in the final term.

Then 08 and the Cats were favourites -
everybodies tips.
But Hawthorn couldn't miss a goal
whilst guess who had "The Yips?"

But caviar will stay on ice
until this time next week,
when hopefully we'll celebrate
and shout till we can't speak.

But whilst them handbags might be
sunken in Corio Bay.
They'll be dredged up and thrashed about
by Joel and Stevie J.

[Bob Pacey]

Huh !!!!!!

[manfredvijars]

... never mind Bob, it's only 'sport' ...

[Stephen Whiteside]

It's pitiful to hear the bleatings
Of all the Hawks supporters.
They've copped some mighty beatings,
Unlike those true rip snorters

That won flags in the eighties.
What about 09?
And 10? 11? 12?
It would seem they have no spine.

Perhaps this year they'll do it.
I'll admit they're fast and clever.
They blew it and they blew it...
But they couldn't lose forever.

[Stephen Whiteside]

The Hawks look good. The Hawks look strong
It could be theirs before too long.
Just one thing to stop their song...
Beware the purple haze.

They'll come in hordes, although it's far.
They'll come by train. They'll come by car.
They'll hitch their wagon to a star...
Beware the purple haze.

The Hawks have heroes of renown,
Best by far in their home town.
One team, though, could shut them down...
Beware the purple haze.

[keats]

It made it quite confusing
When the Cats took on the Hawks
Who to bloody barrack for,
The Pansies or the Dorks

Over rated Buddy?
The creaks from Stevie J.?
Selwood screaming 'Head High!'
Or Roughead turning gay?

I'd barrack for the umpires
But they're a bunch of twits
And Scott and bloody Clarko
Both give me the #8*@s

So I didn't lose a bit of sleep
When Hawthorn won the day
And all those sooking cats
Just slinked to Corio Bay

So come on Purple Freo
(Though I cannot stand the West)
But of all the challengers this year
I liked them far the best

And if my Suns can't make the Finals
(Till next year when we rise)
Then either can those mongrel Cats
Or Swans, or Blues or Pies

So I'll go dig out my purple flares
As Freo trumpets sound
And barrack home the Dockers
(Oh..and Barlow, Best On Ground!)

[Stephen Whiteside]

What's the colour of usurple?
Purple. Purple. Purple. Purple.

Stealer. Spoiler. Tagger. Blocker.
Docker. Docker. Docker. Docker.

Rob the Hawks of all their chirple?
Purple. Purple. Purple. Purple.

Left their mojo in the locker...
Docker. Docker. Docker. Docker.

[warooa]

I dunno what'd be more depressing . . . a second GF loss in a row or having to listen to "Freo, heave-ho, way to go" or however that terrible travesty of a club theme song goes .

Lets just hope that Yankee Doodle Dandy is ear-worming into our heads late into the Saturday night (UNpurple) haze. (And purple sausages . . fair dinkum!? Did anyone actually go there?)

And Keats . . . we are a happy team at Hawthorn but Roughy gay? Puts a whole new meaning to "riding the bumps with a grin @ Hawthorn "