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That legend of Shelbourne, one Oliver Byrne,
Did suffer one advent a bit of a turn.
His eyesight went hazy, his vision was spent,
So down to the local opticians he went.
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Well, they did loads of tests and they checked out his pupils,
Giving the notion they’d lots of fine scruples.
They discovered that Ollie was badly shortsighted,
And glasses were needed for this to be righted.
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The footballing maestro then tried on the masses
Of tortoise-shell, tinted and rose-coloured glasses.
He picked out a pair and was happy until
He took out his wallet to settle the bill.
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There were charges for testing and reading the chart,
And for all of the skills of the optician’s art,
A charge for perusing the specs on the shelves,
Not to mention the charge for the glasses themselves.
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So Ollie went mad and said there was no way
On this holy earth he’d be willing to pay.
He stormed to the exit, not deigning to stop
And wish “Merry Christmas” to all in the shop.
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Blindly he groped through the packed Christmas crowd
Past where carol singers were singing out loud,
And, as the cold air cut his cheeks like a knife, he
Grimaced as they warbled, “The Ollie and the Eye Fee.”