The ball was sprayed wide out to Ryan,
Who was hugging the touchline with grace.
Dave Crawley was desperately tryin’
To avoid looking straight at his face.
But as he went in for the tackle
[All full-backs are merciless swine]
The Banshee let out a loud cackle,
And booted the ball down the line.
And onward the two of them scampered
To the sound of their managers’ cries.
Poor Crawley was seriously hampered
By having Ryan’s hair in his eyes.
Just as they got to the corner,
Young Creepy went sliding in hard.
[There’s rumours that he had been born a-
Lone in a dirty farmyard]
Young pretty boy Ryan went crashing
Right through the perimeter fence,
McKeon, the bollix, came dashing,
Lest somebody took great offence.
The winger got up out the heather,
His face masked in blood, grass and snot.
The crowd were all wondering whether
It was an improvement or not.
Was it a goal-kick, or was it
A corner, or was it a free?
Dave Crawley claimed goal-kick because it
Had touched Ryan last on the knee.
Bobby Ryan’s face settled the issue,
All covered in flora and fauna.
McKeon produced a large tissue,
And gave the Boh’s winger a corner.