Football Poets

1984

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Orwell told the world how nineteen eighty four would work
He never said a word about a football club for Cork
On August the 19th, we beat the Dale by 2 to 1
No one really knew what kind of journey had begun
In a quarter of a century, it’s touched so many lives
It’s had its share of brushes but still the club survives
A twenty five year butterfly pupated from a grub
I’d like to tell the tale in rhyme the history of our club

¶ 2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Being a fan has no measure, often heartache little pleasure
Early days down at the Lodge, watching Woodruff tackles dodge
Off the mark in eighty seven, Kieran Myers showed us heaven
89 was our first final, Davey shoots, a lick of vinyl

¶ 3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Cross was thronged in ninety one, Tom McNulty spoiled our fun
12,000 souls packed in tight, to see us suffering stage fright
The summer spent wondering why? Masquerading in Shanghai
That September Musgrave Park, Davey made his Munich mark

¶ 4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Got lashed at Lansdowne 92, when Tilsons goal went in we knew
Second cup final, nil success, but a new arena and new address
Plonker moved us out of town, All hail EuroBishopstown
Pitch was built upon a bog, add to that descending fog

¶ 5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Holy grail was ninety three, with the great Noel O’Mahony
3 way playoff, Shels and Bohs, round one all were juxtapose
RDS we led three times, you know you’re going to win sometimes
Conga train pulled into Kent, through the streets of Cork we went

¶ 6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 European Champions Cup, Cwmbran Town then went three up
Glynns late winner, Cross went mad, Guinness made a billboard ad
Ali Sami Yen, the heat, just like Fergie we got beat
Daveys goal it had us sweating; when Bucks’ shot hit the side netting

¶ 7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Christmas week of ninety four, Rico couldn’t take much more.
Our verbose leader left forlorn, seeds of success were, by now sown
They sprouted early in ninety five, we beat Dundalk in their own dive
First leg lead from Pat Morley, sealed away by Johnny C

¶ 8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Rob Hindmarch, he did his best, the angels laid his soul to rest
Plonkers reign was duly done, returning home, our spiritual one
Ninety seven on New Years Day, Galway took League Cup away
Colins April header, the job! Back to Europe, Inter Two Bob

¶ 9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Won the cup in ninety eight, Derek Coughlan popped up late
Topless men in summer sun, cried like babies when we won
When Deccie lifted cup aloft, a lot of hardened fans went soft
Moses with top hat and cape, hugged us all, was no escape

¶ 10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 Despair again in ninety nine, Pats they pipped us at the line
We did win League Cup number three, Hartigol brought Christmas glee
Early noughties, starved of success, nothing but the bridesmaids dress
Leicester link up didn’t survive, Derek Mountfield, gang of five

¶ 11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 We ran Shels close in zero four, facts were there, could not ignore
A barrier to overcome, we had to learn to beat them some,
That summer a veritable potpourri, went on our Euro odyssey,
Doin’ the European dance, through Sweden, Holland and then France

¶ 12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 The pinnacle in zero five, our greatest gaffer did contrive
To succeed where others had failed and lead us to the Holy Grail,
Doyler left us early on, sheer momentum drove us on
Prague, that year, our greatest scene, with eight hundred and nineteen

¶ 13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 It came down to our final game, the famous Shed Ends last acclaim
Our grand old lean-to ended up, with fans, the players and the cup
Now a shot of a cup double, team got stage fright, was the trouble
A wet and windy Lansdowne Road, again our lads they never showed

¶ 14 Leave a comment on verse 14 0 The anger in me welled right up, Drogs they stole Setanta Cup,
Longford next, “Ridden Rock Solid”, dressing room door far from stolid,
Champions League gave brief respite, Cypriot sun and Belgrade fright
League run didn’t finish pretty, all thanks to that Dublin City

¶ 15 Leave a comment on verse 15 0 Brian then sold to Little Jim, his investment rolled right in
To Arkaga, spend, spend, spend, twas all too much to comprehend
Rico drove on unperturbed, Bohs cup semi, joy uncurbed
Fifth cup final RDS, Beast, for once, begrudgerless

¶ 16 Leave a comment on verse 16 0 Rico sacked, Statues was hired. Finnish Euro dreams back fired
Arkaga then stopped paying bills, Examinership would cure our ills
A No Bobs knight in shining armour, rode on in, a right snake charmer
Nine lives now have all been took, waiting for Tom to sling his hook

¶ 17 Leave a comment on verse 17 0 We’ve had our trials and tribulations, dark days mixed with aberrations
It hasn’t all been doomed malaise, like every dog we’ve had our days,
Fans most special, our biggest plus, moulding the future plans Foras
Our clubs survival we must contrive, to safeguard a further twenty five