At Richmond Park, he set up camp,
But he forgot to buy a stamp.
On Fridays he goes rock ‘n’ rollin’,
You’re a legend, Mr. Dolan.
Never one to have a rant,
Or view things with a biased slant,
Wished he could have met Marc Bolan,
Telegram Sam, eh, Mr. Dolan?
We always like to read his column,
Always vibrant, never solemn,
Knows to use a semi-colon;
Grammatical, is Mr. Dolan.
The population in the south
All crowded round by word of mouth.
By de Banks he goes a-strollin’,
A rebel boy is Mr. Dolan.
Perplexed by Shels, he sadly strives
To bring success to Corkmen’s lives,
Deified out in Haulbowline,
As befitting Mr. Dolan.
When he’s on a TV panel,
He never gives a lot of flannel,
And hardly ever needs cajolin’,
Right up front is Mr. Dolan.
Cork were on the up and up,
When in the Intertoto Cup,
But then he had his thunder stolen –
“Well done Shels,” mouthed Mr. Dolan.
Much admired, although the boss
Of football down in Turner’s Cross,
With rebel die-hards all extollin’
Loyalty to Mr. Dolan.