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Mark was a 30 year old Irishman playing for us – Temple Bar, Southgate.
I said why aren’t you playing for them? What’s the mystery?
The opposition wore Celtic kits, they were Irish and all mates.
He said, “Larry it’s ‘cos of eight hundred years of bloody history.”
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Mark had spent 4 years in the Paras fighting in Falkland’s rain,
A stubborn and able midfield general, if only 5 foot tall,
But his leg twisted with a compound break all the same.
The big ginger-lad broke his shin-bone 2-foot above the ball.
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The sound of the snap, cut the afternoon in twain.
The ambulance was called and we covered Mark in coats.
We made sure he could not see his leg and the visible bone;
the ginger-lad not sure whether to be ashamed or gloat.
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But the lad in green took Mark’s hand in his own,
He held it; said he was from Cork and called Shaun,
He would apologise with a pint when he saw Mark in town.
And thus ended Enfield’s amateur Battle of the Boyne.