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There’s nothing will stress a fan as much
As your club going bust, kaput as such
Who then do you follow, what do you do?
Just stare at the four walls, alone feeling blue?
When Friday night comes, how do you spend?
Now that you’ve reached this loosest of end.
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Last month left me feeling very chagrined
My club once again sailed too close to the wind
Stress levels kept rising, nerves were unsteady.
Thank God I’m entirely grey haired already
Straight into the fire, just out of the pan
A winding up order from Johnny Taxman
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Playing hard ball with revenue isn’t advisable
Especially when the sum owed is quite sizeable
I don’t blame Mr. Taxman, he’s doing his job
Our Chairmans the reason we haven’t a bob.
Tom’s megalomania put us on edge
Here’s how he teetered us over the ledge
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Monday July 13th
So we’re back in the High Court with Mary Laffoy
The sight of Tom’s face brings her unbridled joy
The total sum owing was €400K
How was this left to amount you all say?
Tom taking stock of this grave situation
Offered a paltry piece meal aberration
But seeing as no bobs had been paid this year,
The taxman declined with a look quite austere
Judge Mary then raised up her menacing gavel
Gave a further 2 weeks for it all to unravel
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Monday July 27th
Seconds away round two would commence
Court 9 at 11, oh the suspense!
At this stage things not good at all
Then put back to the second call
Time it was passing, twas well after two
News of the wind up was filtering through
Stay on the order ‘til Friday was put
Hail Mary, a stormer to keep us afoot
Unless by Friday the full total is paid
Club would be gone, welcome outstayed
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Friday July 31st
Supporter wrote a letter, Mickey Harris was his name
Celtic sent a letter back saying how about a game?
Half in cash with glamour friendly would surely appease.
Hard balling continued, despite Hail Marys pleas
By 1pm no deal was done, never so depressed,
Fearing that we’d now be laid unto eternal rest
At 4.30, a chink of light came from incessant rain
Rumour that a deal was cut, to end the weeks of pain
An eleventh hour saviour came and lent us Celtic cash
Saving this dear club of which our Tom has made a hash
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Thursday August 6th
Today we were told would be just a formality
Though not when it affects your clubs mortality
No sign of Our Lady, M’Lord Sheehan sits
She was out foreign supping Aperol Spritz
As she sat in her deckchair and pandiculated
We sat by computers, for good news we waited
A sigh of relief, all eyes raised to heaven
As “Petition struck out” news came from Court 11
Despite Tommy No Bobs, we’re saved for the now
Baited breath for the moment when he’ll disavow.