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Rovers on Good Friday, sure,
And all the pubs were shut,
So everybody had a little whine.
Rovers say they’re not small beer,
Their future’s rosé, but
The red and white still laid it on the line.
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The Rovers fans seemed jealous
When they claimed that Glenn was stout,
But bitterly they watched him show his mettle.
‘Twas no champagne performance,
Quite a rum old game no doubt,
Our forwards never let McGuinness settle.
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The Ports exposed some defects
But we nipped them in the Bud,
And scotched the rumours we were merely talk.
Byrne’s goal was the de-cider,
It was really very good,
And on Monday we all hope to pop the Cork.