A poem for Rod

[Hibbyradge]

I didn't write it, obviously. Rudyard Kipling did.

But I bet Rod knows it well.



IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

[Viva_Palmeiras]

There once was a man with a tache
who thought he'd give footie a bash
cut costs with a slash
Dispense managers in a flash
Until terry came in for big cash...

[Hibernia&Alba]

If you can keep your wallet open when chairmen all around are closing theirs, then, my tache, you'll be a Hibs man.

[weecounty hibby]

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There once was a man with a tache
who thought he'd give footie a bash
cut costs with a slash
Dispense managers in a flash
Until terry came in for big cash...

More Mr Kippling than Rudyard Kippling. But not in an exceedingly good way😊

[Viva_Palmeiras]

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More Mr Kippling than Rudyard Kippling. But not in an exceedingly good way

Ah but you've not seen his earlier stuff... ;)

[Thecat23]

So the butcher was sought from the very start,
Fine football please, was the plea from out hearts,
Is it so hard to win once in a while? But not just 3 points but to win it in style!

So Rod sat down and knew just that man,
He came from the highlands with a dog in his van.
One look at this squad his heart did not flutter, it's confidence you need, I'll pick this team out the gutter.

So Paisley awaits for the big mans first game, no more pass backs, 50 times in one game. It's onwards and upwards for the team in the green. No more Mr nice guy it's time to get mean.

We all pull together just like in the past, when times were much better and the football was fast. To all those lost fans who just had enough, give it one more shot it's not really that tough. The HIBEES will prosper with big Tel leading the team.... But it's us the real fans who knows what it means!!

COME ON THE HIBEES!!!!!

[KWJ]

Hadn't heard that poem before, really enjoyed it; cheers.

And it does seem fitting IMO.

Rod's taken a beating from pillar to post and yet he's signed us a manager that the vast majority are impressed by (and I don't understand those that arenae; rockets!) and didn't think we'd be able to bring in. Just look at the first page of the Butcher thread.

Well done Rodders.

Bravo

[Jones28]

We once had a chairman called rod
He could be such a miserly sod
But then in came TB
To bring back some glory
To which rod, the old sod, gave the nod

[Nailrod]

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Rod's taken a beating from pillar to post and yet he's signed us a manager that the vast majority are impressed by...

Well done Rodders.

Absolutely. Poaching a smaller club's successful management team after your own efforts have resulted in five successive disasters is such an achievement.

All hail king rod...

[rcarter1]

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I didn't write it, obviously. Rudyard Kipling did.

But I bet Rod knows it well.



IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

A bit early for life affirming poetry, but

[Phil D. Rolls]

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Absolutely. Poaching a smaller club's successful management team after your own efforts have resulted in five successive disasters is such an achievement.

All hail king rod...

Sad to say
Doesn't rhyme
Take the day
You've got time.

[Nailrod]

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Sad to say
Doesn't rhyme
Take the day
You've got time.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Roddymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Hibees, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

[Phil D. Rolls]

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I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Roddymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Hibees, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Percy Bysshe Shelley