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Dolan Og, his genius was given,
Within the Eircom League, his deepest hopes were driven,
All his faults were faithfully forgiven,
For wasn’t he the Pride of Inchicore?
All his success just made us cry,
Down in Tolka Park, we cast a greenish eye,
Boys, oh boys, sure that’s the reason why
We used to hate the Pride of Inchicore.
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He worked small miracles with limited resources,
He had the eerie power to summon up dark forces,
Never written off, though frequently dark horses,
They knew him as the Pride of Inchicore.
Said he, “I am Pats until my dying day,
You won’t see much beauty in the way that my teams play,
But I’ll bring you silver cups upon a silver tray,
For amn’t I the Pride of Inchicore?”
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So it went as ‘twas in the beginning,
Dolan Og was bent upon the winning,
Andy O contentedly was grinning,
Being courted by the Pride of Inchicore.
Till all of a sudden, the football dream turned sour,
Pat sat unmolested in his personal ivory tower,
Understanding not why he’d lost a lot of power,
Through the Oifig an Phoist in Inchicore.
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Boys oh boys, and Pats were in decline,
Their imminent demise was a prospect so divine,
Fifteen points was better again than nine,
As we rejoiced at the distress in Inchicore.
But now me heart is sad and full of woe,
Dolan Og decided he must go,
Ollie took it as a mortal blow,
When Pats found another Pride of Inchicore.