The Loneliness of the Eircom League Fan
¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 (Champions League Final)
¶ 2
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Surprised at my own lack of grace,
I supped my pint quite unperturbed,
And sat there with a placid face,
That great events had not disturbed.
¶ 3
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I watched the scene as from afar –
These wild-eyed men bedecked in red
Who leapt around the tiny bar
With veins protruding from their head.
¶ 4
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Fists clenched in joy, with raucous chants,
All self-control and balance gone,
They acted a crazy dance
For me, their audience of one.
¶ 5
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They doubtless viewed me as a fool,
No int’rest in the wondrous game,
Who’d never heard of Liverpool,
Who’d not been touched by football’s flame.
¶ 6
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And, as I sat, I pondered why
I could not share their great delight.
Was mine a surly, jealous eye
Upon this most amazing night?
¶ 7
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I bear no ill to Liverpool,
They well deserved to win the match.
Also-rans now, as a rule,
They’ll revel in this purple patch.
¶ 8
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I’m saddened by this Irish mass
Who wear the red and kiss the crest
Such declarations I find crass
And utterly bizarre at best.
¶ 9
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When England play, they’ll mock and jeer,
And laugh whenever things go wrong.
And should they lose, they’ll raise a cheer
And sing a heartfelt rebel song.
¶ 10
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But do they follow Bohs or Cork
And help to raise the standards here?
Or will the season’s football talk
Revolve ‘round Sky and pints of beer?
¶ 11
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Throughout their native land, in pubs
Our trophy-seeking young men give
Allegiance to their English clubs,
Notwithstanding where they live.
¶ 12
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Eggs and chickens, chickens, eggs…
Will we ever get success
If they regard us as the dregs,
Despite our native Irishness?
¶ 13
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I sit here in my Shelbourne shirt,
Surveying scenes of utter glee,
Yet feeling all the righteous hurt
Of dreams that have eluded me.
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