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She’s my blood-and-guts midfield girl,
My never-wants-to-yield girl,
She goes for fifty-fifties like a train.
She’s my go-in-hell-for-leather girl,
My let-her-off-her-tether girl,
Intent on causing misery and pain.
She’s my Billy-Bremner fiery girl,
My tough-as-nails and wiry girl
Who goes in on opponents hard and low.
She’s my never-shirks-a-tackle girl,
My snap-and-pop-and-crackle girl
And that’s the reason why I love her so.
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But when we’re walking out together
She’s a bird of diff’rent feather,
She is graceful and coquettish
With a shoe and handbag fetish.
When we go out ballroom dancing
She is charming and entrancing,
All the male dancers hearten her
When they ask to be her par-ten-er.
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She’s my Gordon-Strachan-tiger girl,
My north-face-of the-Eiger girl
Who plays the holding role with great aplomb.
She’s my go-in-where-its-painful girl,
My danger-is-disdainful girl,
Exploding on the field like a bomb.
She’s my always-cause-a-ruction girl,
My conquest-and-destruction girl,
Who scares the sweet bejaysus out of many.
My kick-‘em-if-they-pass-you girl,
My don’t-let-them-outclass-you girl,
She could’ve been a hurler for Kilkenny.
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But I often have to chide her
When she recoils from a spider
And she cries at soppy novels
Set in sentimental hovels.
She goes weak on seeing confetti
And will not miss “Ugly Betty,”
Her Sister Jeckyll transformation
Just invokes my adoration.
Whether saint or vicious sinner,
I’m onto a real winner.
Oh, destructive, caring Julie,
Love you deeply, madly truly.