The die is cast

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 From the island’s opposite ends
We’re just like long lost friends
We’ve both had our ups and our downs
Shared stories in copious rounds

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 The Lodge in March of eighty six,
Hennesseys goal, a teenage kick
Three years later, haunts like a ghost
Dave Barrys shot, came off the post

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 November two thousand and five
The greatest night ever alive
The Shed packed to the end of its tether
As we laughed and we cried all together

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Some have our City infiltrated
Still these folks must be translated
Whatever the Sit-she-a-shun
Text message might be need to be done.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Our moment of glory converging
Can you see the pattern emerging?
We’ve won it first in eighty seven
Kieran Myers showed us heaven

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Twelve years later in ninety nine
Hargies finish was so sublime
Another twelve have now since passed
The cup is ours, the die is cast.



It’s the League Cup Final on Saturday next between my beloved Cork City and our Northern friends in Derry. As we compete at the top of the First Division they compete similarly in the Premier but we have home advantage and I reckon, all going well, that we can take them, here’s hoping.

We’ve always had great relations with our northern friends in fact we’ve even taken in a few strays over the years.
Mind you we still haven’t a clue what they’re saying.

Sit-she-a-shun = a Derry person saying situation.

P.S. I’ve taken poetic licence in forgetting our 1996 victory in Dundalk.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-die-is-cast/