Alas lads, it was not your day,
Its time to drown your sorrows,
Time to put the drink away
Like there were no tomorrows.
Time to put away the stout,
There’s no point staying sober.
What’s the point in drying out
At this stage of October?
As players, sure, you did your best
And we salute you proudly.
But now its time to have a rest
And sink the black stuff loudly.
Forget about this football lark,
You’re suffering from fatigue.
Shelbourne in United Park?
Who cares about the league?
The Cup has set you way off track
And buggered up your season.
But why the urge to bounce right back?
There isn’t any reason.
So off ye go, and have a sup.
Go on, be little devils!
Doolo won’t mind if you up
Your alcoholic levels.
The barman’s looking at the beer,
Hoping soon to serve it,
So go, have some October cheer,
Lord knows you sure deserve it.