Observe the Sons of Linfield Marching Towards the Tolka
¶ 1
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The question was, should we pay heed
To tales that had been woven
About this pagan Northern breed
With hoofs that had been cloven?
¶ 2
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We knew they ate their babies for
‘Twas documented fully,
And spent their squalid lives in ador-
-Ation of “King Bully.”
¶ 3
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Their hardened eyes betray no smile,
No vestige of good humour.
They plot their thuggish deeds with guile,
According to the rumour.
¶ 4
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For these were not of woman born,
Not sanctified or holy,
But rather, were the Devil’s spawn,
Their evil spreading slowly.
¶ 5
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We tried to warn our noble youth
About the trouble loomin’,
For tiny horns betray the truth
That Proddies are not human.
¶ 6
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The havoc they would surely wreak
Upon our population
Was far too horrible to speak.
We prayed for our salvation.
¶ 7
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BUT when they came, they showed no trace
Of this inherent violence.
They stood, and with a solemn grace
Observed the minute’s silence.
¶ 8
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The thousands that had driven down
Seemed ordin’ry supporters,
Enjoying their day out in town
With wives and sons and daughters.
¶ 9
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No whiff of sulphur in the air,
No bloodstains on their clothing,
No screaming, writhing souls laid bare,
No fear, no hate, no loathing.
¶ 10
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The stands around were all a-buzz,
For this was unexpected.
In fact, they looked a lot like us,
Which no-one had suspected.
¶ 11
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They took our chanting with a grin,
Engaged in friendly banter,
And cheered their team to glory in
The match of the Setanta.
¶ 12
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This has to be a fiendish plot
To lower our defences,
A scheming tactic, like as not,
Confounding all our senses.
¶ 13
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How can they just be normal folk,
With such a reputation?
This had to be the cruellest joke
To play upon this nation.
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