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‘Twas on a cold and windy day, they came to Lansdowne Road,
Down Leeson Street and Baggot Street, the two great armies strode.
By bus, by coach, by car and rail, they made for Dublin 4,
To resurrect the legendary, if fabled, Lansdowne roar.
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Cork were bookies’ favourites, for they’d just clinched the League,
And Rico said his players were not suff’ring from fatigue.
The Drogs had never won the Cup and travelled more in hope
That God would look down on their plight and give them strength to cope.
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The match began with gusto, Cork were favoured by the wind.
The Drogs defence looked nervy and the Cork supporters grinned.
Crosses flew into the box, as many had expected,
But neither strikers John O’Flynn nor Neal Fenn connected.
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Drogheda were struggling hard to find a bit of form,
Pushed back by the Cork attacks, they rode the fiery storm.
But gradually, so gradually, they pushed their rivals back,
And even managed once or twice to launch the odd attack.
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John O’Flynn looked menacing, he stole in like a ghost,
And nearly fooled Dan Connor when his snap shot struck the post.
But as the game approached half time, the Corkmen lost their touch,
Whatever chances came their way did not amount to much.
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Gorgeous George was trying every little trick he knew,
But when the ref refused to bite, his keen frustration grew.
And when the half time whistle went, the score still at nil – nil,
You had the feeling Drogheda had scaled a mighty hill.
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And when the second half resumed, poor Cork were soon in trouble,
And realists began to pour cold water on the double,
Some hesitant defending from a cross out on the right,
And Whelan volleyed in the net, to Drogheda’s delight.
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The downcast Rebel army tried to lift their outplayed team,
But there was no way Drogheda were letting go the dream.
Defenders always in control, they linked up well together,
Taking full advantage of the wild December weather.
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And sure, it came as no surprise when Fabio’s deft lob
Sailed gleefully into the net, to make the Cork lads sob.
Very few predictions had the Louthmen two goals up,
But now the Final debutantes had two hands on the Cup.
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Resolute defending meant Cork barely had a chance,
As Drogheda perpetuated football’s great romance.
It was a long time coming, as detractors long had scoffed,
But the empty years just melted, as the Cup was held aloft.