On the Game

I linger on the corners:
Just staring at the grass;
When I'm in luck, I get a ruck -
If someone makes a pass.

I like a good, hard tackle -
Am partial to a maul:
And when on top, I use a Prop
To grasp an odd-shaped ball.

But, 'though I may be Forward;
The ball's gone out of touch:
And an attempt to score would
Not lead up to much.

I am an ageing hooker,
And that's what makes me cry:
For in my youth, I played the field,
But now,
I never
try.