Way up north where the sugar cane grows,
Is a scenic little town where the Herbert flows.
It is here that a legendary team was born,
Of proud local men with speed and brawn.
Donning the colours of red and white,
The team took the field to display their might.
Ducking and weaving through the Lifesaver’s pack,
The nippy little halfback led the attack.
He found open space and raced on by,
And in the blink of an eye he scored a try.
The wily winger lined up the shot,
And the ball sailed over the tiny black dot.
The Dolphin supporters rose and cheered,
And it was obvious why this team was feared.
After eighty minutes of punishing hell,
The players adjourned to the Station Hotel.
Over copious beers and recounts of the game,
Allegiance to their brothers they would proclaim.
As the players grow old with the passing of time,
They sometimes reflect what they did in their prime.
Backing their mates from the start to the finish,
Is a wonderful memory that will never diminish.
The poem is about a rugby league football club (Lower Herbert Football Club) that I used to play for in Ingham, North Queensland, Australia. Ingham is a small rural town on the banks of the Herbert River and sugar cane growing is the main industry. When I was playing there in 1979 and 1980, the club did not have its own clubhouse. After the match, the players would go to the Station Hotel for drinks.