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The Green and Whites swept everything before them,
While we at Harolds Cross won bugger all.
We hated them but never could ignore them
Despite their gross indifference to the ball.
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Their arrogance was often quite appalling,
Their fans took every league and cup for granted,
For fans of other clubs, it was quite galling
To see the way the football odds were slanted.
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Then one day, little Louis got a notion,
The dollar signs came down before his eyes,
His scheme might cause a bit of a commotion,
But think of all the money as a prize.
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The Milltown gates were firmly locked and tethered,
And very soon the pitch was overgrown,
Until it was completely gorsed and heathered,
So silent and despondent and alone.
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Then something happened that was quite astounding
Something we could never have foreseen,
Something that was really so confounding –
Sympathy for those in white and green.
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And, as they lost their home, they lost their numbers,
And very quickly lost all their success
But, like a sleeping giant in his slumbers,
Their dreams were so much harder to repress.
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And all the hate that I once felt inside me,
Has mellowed very greatly down the years.
And though my fellow Shelbourne fans might chide me,
There is no malice in my caustic jeers.
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However, there’s a cloud on the horizon,
The Wandering Hoops have finally found a home,
The fact it took so long is quite surprisin’,
But soon it seems they’ll have no need to roam.
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And when they’re at their stadium’s unveiling,
When finally they get a fixed address,
I reckon they will start again regaling
The rest of us with tales of boastfulness.
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And then the circle will become completed,
And nothing we can do will e’er sedate them,
And history again will be repeated,
And once again we’ll passionately hate them.