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Oh Stephen, Stephen, don’t you see
The most delicious irony?
Your words, reported in the press,
Betray your turmoil and distress.
“The greatest scandal ever seen,”
You blasted out at Hallowe’en,
Confessing you would be dismayed
Should Bohs and Shelbourne get replayed.
For points, you stated to the proles,
Should not be gained through rulebook holes,
But rather on the field of play,
Which you would deem the fairest way.
The Bohs result should be let stand,
Reversal would be underhand,
And it just makes your pink blood boil
That Shelbourne will not take their oil.
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So, Stephen, let us break the bones
Of these glass houses, people, bones.
First, Derry had three points withdrawn
For fielding Mr Hargan, Sean,
When on the League’s suspension list,
A fact your own officials missed.
But you appealed successfully
Upon a technicality,
And lo! The three points were returned.
Your fingers thus remained unburned.
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And we could really see your pity
When the League lost Dublin City.
Shels’ six points, won fair and square,
Were in a flash reduced to air,
While Derry gained a big reward
For dropping points which were restored.
And thus, upon your “field of play,”
Shels, who won more games, held sway,
But off the field, the quoted rules,
Compiled by jesters, clowns and fools,
Conspired to hand out Tolka pain,
While working well to Derry’s gain.