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The hours I do in work
Often drive me quite beserk.
They are not “football-friendly,” so to speak.
Sure they help to pay the rent,
But their awkwardness has meant
I cannot follow Shelbourne every week.
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So when matchday comes around
And I am absent from the ground,
(A part-time fan, to my undying shame.)
I will log on to the net
In a cold and nervous sweat
And hope they’ll have live updates from the game.
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For, as everybody knows,
Poor old Aertel has its woes,
Their updates may be wrong or long-delayed.
If it says that we are losing,
Chances are we might be cruising,
Despite the leaps technology has made.
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But the updates on Shelsweb
Show each little flow and ebb,
The next best thing to watching in the flesh.
It’s reliable and fast,
You’re both audience and cast,
So long as you know how to hit ‘Refresh.’
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It is like in days of yore,
In the fifties and before,
When folk would huddle round the radio
From each corner of the land,
With their Ovaltine in hand,
They’d follow all the action, blow by blow.
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Plus ça change, c’est la même chose
For the exile and for those
Who cannot make the match down in Kildare.
We will gather round our sets,
With our personal regrets,
But comforted that live updates are there.
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And whether you’re in work
In the wilds of Nanaturk,
In Ho Chi Minh or down in Adrigole,
We will all react the same
When we’re following the game
And see that lovely, lengthy, luscious
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So we’ll raise our glasses then
To those brave and selfless men,
Who text and type to stoke the red hot flames,
For this small but faithful group
Serves to keep us in the loop
And dulls the pain of missing Shelbourne games.