Max Boyce 9-3
Twas on a dark and dismal day in a week that had seen rain,
When all roads led to Stradey Park with the All Blacks here again,
they poured down from the valleys, they came from far and wide,
There were 50,000 in the ground and me and Dai outside.
The shops were closed like Sunday and the streets were silent still,
And those who chose to stay away were either dead or ill,
But those who went to Stradey park will remember till they die,
How New Zealand Were defeated and how the pubs ran dry.
Oh the beer flowed at Stradey, piped down from Felinfoel,
And the hands that held the glasses high were strong from steel and coal,
the air was filled with singing and I heard a grown man cry,
Not because we'd won but because the pubs ran dry.
Then dawned the morning after, on empty factories,
For we were still at Stradey, bloodshot absentees,
But we all had doctors papers and they all said just the same,
that we all had Scarlet fever and we caught it at the game.
Now all the little babies in Llanelli from now on,
Will be Christened Roy or Carwyn, Derek, Delme, Phil or John,
And in a hundred years from now they'll sing a song for me,
About that day the scoreboard read Llanelli 9- Seland Newydd 3.
And when I grow old, my hair turns grey and they put me in a chair,
I'll tell my great grandchildren that their Datcu was there.
And they'll ask to hear the story of that dark October day,
When I went down to Stradey park and I saw the Scarlets play.
