On A Knife Edge

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Long ago, in the county of Kerry,
In the mountains that look down on Sneem,
Lived a young farmer’s boy, name of Gerry,
Who subscribed to the footballer’s dream.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Now his da was a typical farmer,
He wouldn’t spend money at all,
And nothing at all in his karma
Would induce him to purchase a ball.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 So Gerry got a big lump of butter,
And fashioned a tightly packed sphere.
His oul’ feller thought him a nutter,
But said he would not interfere.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 The young lad got down to some training,
Dribbling the ball smooth and sweet,
Up and down hills, sun or raining,
With the butterball glued to his feet.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 When the trials at Waterville beckoned,
He made his opponents look wooden.
They played him midfield for they reckoned
He could spread it around like a good ‘un.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/on-a-knife-edge/