The County Clare Final

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 ‘Twas the day of the regional Final,
A petulant, niggly affair.
The rain pelted down
On the bonny, wee town
In the picturesque county of Clare.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The underdogs, Doolin, were battling
With all of the strength they could garner.
They were playing it rough
But it wasn’t enough
To unsettle the great Lisdoonvarna.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The rain did not make for great football,
The pitch became flooded with water,
And fans of each club
Buggered off to the pub
To renew their acquaintance with porter.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Then the poor Doolin fullback went sliding,
Upended the fleet-footed winger.
And the ref ran up, dashing
Through lakes loudly splashing,
Whilst waving an unhappy finger.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 “A two-footed tackle, young Regan!”
Said the ref, as he brandished a yellow.
“Don’t go in quite as hard,
Or you’ll get a red card,
You young and impetuous fellow.”

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 “A two-footed tackle, ye’re saying?”
Quoth Regan with a sarcastic cackle.
“Don’t think that I’m chiding,
But did ye no’ see me sliding?
It was more like a fifteen foot tackle.”


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-county-clare-final/