Who would you follow?
¶ 1
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Last night, as I lay in my bed,
Awaiting sleep’s delicious call,
A question popped into my head.
¶ 2
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“Just suppose,” this small voice said
“That Shelbourne did go to the wall.
What team would you support instead?”
¶ 3
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“Dunno,” I answered, full of dread.
“Why would you ask me that at all,
A loyal and devoted Red?”
¶ 4
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“Just answer!” (I will call him Fred,
This voice that through my mind did crawl)
“Would you frequent the Richmond shed?”
¶ 5
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“I think I would be better dead!
The thought does verily appal!”
I answered, as fence-sitting fled.
¶ 6
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Rovers? Bohs? The panic spread.
Cork or Derry? Bray? Fingal?
Not one, I thought, from A to Zed.
¶ 7
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But then, as I lay in my bed,
Still waiting sleep’s delicious call,
The answer popped into my head.
¶ 8
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“The Mons!” I yelled, “though they’ve no ped-
-Igree, nor any trophy haul,
And I’m not Ulster-born nor bred,
¶ 9
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They’re who I’d support instead,
If mighty Shels should ever fall.
Now, go and get some shut-eye, Fred.”
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