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Beneath the hot Sardinian sun,
England thought they had it won,
Believing simply they had done
Enough to win the tie.
But Ireland were not finished yet,
And ‘bout an equaliser set,
Striving hard to find the net
As minutes trickled by.
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Behind his staunch defensive wall,
Bold Packie Bonner, Ireland’s tall
And agile goalie got the ball
And clutched it to his front.
And, as he waved the lads away,
He grimaced in his unique way,
And launched the ball back into play
With an almighty punt.
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Up and up and up it soared,
Defenders watching, open-jawed,
As Ireland’s mad supporters roared,
Or gave a fist-clenched laugh.
Up and up and up it went,
Quite nearly into orbit sent,
And then began it’s long descent
Deep in the English half.
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And Cascarino, striving, straining,
Being dragged but not complaining,
O’er the England centres gaining,
Bravely stretched his head,
And knocked it sideways, where the weedy-
Looking frame of Kevin Sheedy,
Like an ad for Help the Needy,
Waited to be fed.
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But Sheedy, nervous, miscontrolled it,
Tried to pass with time to hold it,
Straight to Steve McMahon he rolled it,
As we railed ‘gainst heaven.
But fair McMahon quite oddly gave a
Nation something great to savour,
Unusually returned the favour,
Knocked it back to Kevin.
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This time, Kev was less ungainly,
In his stride, he took it plainly,
McMahon essayed a tackle vainly,
Kevin beat him to it.
Suddenly the goal was gaping,
Shilton moved anticipating,
Sheedy shot with steam escaping,
As he followed through.
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Low across the turf it arrowed,
Shilton looked distraught and harrowed,
Thought he had the angle narrowed,
But Kev’s aim was true.
Bulged the net in sweet elation,
A nation leapt in jubilation,
Sheedy took the adulation
That arrived on cue.