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Doin’ Prague

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 When that shiny yellow ball emerged from UEFAs bag
Our first round opposition would be the Slavias from Prague
We knew it would be tough but were not quite overawed
Another European trip. with the grace and help of god.
Every form of transport was used to get us there
Car and train, boat and plane, donkey, cart & prayer
Rico couldn’t make the trip, he had a lung infection
We took along another few to give the team direction
Skippy, Deccie, Biscuits too, were there to help Dave Hill
Rico had instructed them, can you imagine the phone bill???
A multitude of different routes were taken on the way
For everyone to be there on that very special day
Gatwick, Stanstead, Stockholm, Paris, all housed our merry band
Some of us even ended up traveling through Dubland.
With tables of Bacardi breezer and stories d’unbelievable
The Rebel Army settled in, the numbers inconceivable
More arriving hour by hour, all different shapes and creeds
The Charles Bridge march united all, even the Japanese

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Now walking the streets of Prague wasn’t quite like doin’ Pana
We had ladies askin’ our lads if they could please blow their banana
There were men looking for Charlie, we said sorry boy not a clue
All we were really interested in, was downing local brew
We lived on Staropramen, spicy sausage and mustard
Despite the quite pugnacious smell we drove on undeterred
The taxis took us up the hill a hundred miles an hour
Tailgating trams, Beeping horns, our knuckles white as flour
We had fans appear from everywhere gathering at the scene
The total final head count was eight hundred and nineteen
The boys they battled proudly, we sang till we were hoarse
We belted out our every tune and then De Banks of course
It was an honour and a privelige to stand there in that crowd
And sing and chant for Cork City, though beaten still unbowed
Football is a cruel cruel game, we didn’t deserve the score
We clapped our heroes off the pitch then clapped a little more.
A Lump it stuck there in my throat, a tear welled in my eye
For I know I am I’m sure I am, I’m City till I die

9

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/doin-prague/