Upon the pitch where men of valor strive,
The clash 'gainst Newcastle Medics was alive.
Our team, with spirit fierce and hearts of flame,
Took up our sticks in honour of the game.
A match of mighty strength and deft accord,
Where fortune’s favor kissed us with reward.

‘Twas in the height of noon's resplendent gleam,
That Will arose as if from vivid dream.
With cunning stealth, upon the goal he sped,
His movement sharp, his purpose finely bred.
With stick in hand, he struck with skill so bright,
The ball flew swift, a blur within our sight.
The backboard did tremble, cheers rang through the skies,
And Will stood proud, his triumph in our eyes.

But not alone in glory would he stand,
For Neil, a lad with might in heart and hand,
Did prowl the field like hawk with wings outspread,
And to the Medics' terror, swiftly sped.
Within the D, the ball his prize became,
He seized it fierce, as if to stake his claim.
Their defenders, left as statues cold and stark,
Could naught but watch as Neil did leave his mark.

With wicked aim, he lofted to the sky,
And sent the ball where none could hope to fly.
It kissed the topmost corner of the frame,
And there did rest, the symbol of his fame.
O praise the skill with which he earned his prize,
A strike that lit the heavens with its rise.

Our team, united, bold in every feat,
With passes sharp and footwork quick and fleet.
From back to front, we played with heart and soul,
Each player’s strength, a part that made the whole.
With grit and grace, we held the Medics back,
And drove with fervour on the counter-attack.

Yet not without some trials did we prevail,
For David, bold, did seek to leave a trail.
With sliding tackle fierce, he aimed to thwart,
But grazed his arms, his blood a testament to sport.
And Keith, alas, did stumble in a daze,
As if enchanted by the game’s fierce blaze.
These moments, filled with grit and humour's grace,
Did add a charm to this relentless chase.

So let us raise our voices, loud and proud,
To honor all, to cheer the team aloud!
For every pass, each tackle, every run,
Did weave a match where glory was begun.
And thus, in rhyme, this victory is sealed,
The triumph of our squad upon the field.