Ireland 1 Wales 0

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It was turgid, lacklustre,
All puffing and bluster,
With both teams deserving to lose.
There was honest endeavour,
Bad passing (as ever)
And the commonplace chorus of boos.
Our great blonde-haired winger
Is no Peter Stringer,
He can vanish like any damned elf.
And my wife says irately,
“Good God, Stephen Gately
Could have done a lot better himself.”

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Thank God I’d no ticket
To watch Ireland nick it,
‘Twas money well saved in the end.
The media is baying
At the way we are playing
And Stan’s looking long for a friend.
The radio thundered
Out Haircut 100,
And my wife said, while drying the delph,
“Those passes so wayward?
Sure, even Nick Hayward
Could have done a lot better himself.”

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Long balls, ineffective
Just rouse the invective,
The manager’s sulky and glum.
And Eamonn was vicious,
Though quite repetitious,
At the thought of the matches to come.
My wife swears avowedly
And, yawning quite loudly,
Puts the coffee jar back on the shelf.
And says “Robbie? You’re joking!
The lad’s hardly smoking!
I could have done a lot better myself.”


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/ireland-1-wales-0/