Leave a comment on verse 1 0
The Matterhorn stands high above the Bernese Oberland,
Glistening escarpments proudly fashioned by God’s hand.
High up in the stratosphere the gusting currents wail,
But it is not as high as that great mountain we will scale.
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
In spring from suffocating snow unfurls the edelweiss,
Bringing warmth and colour to a landscape clothed in ice.
Its arrival tells the cowering world that life will soon begin,
But much more blooming marvellous would be an Ireland win.
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
The cows above the tree line are all troubled by the hex,
Of wearing massive clanking bells around their fly-strewn necks.
The thin, clear air reverberates with clonking bells galore,
But all the bells of Ireland will ring out if Ireland score.
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
The lakes within the cantons are all crystal clear and blue,
Neuchatel, Geneva and Luzern and Glarus too,
Shining ‘neath the woods and snow, contrasting green and white,,
But none will be as blue as all the Swiss on Saturday night.
Leave a comment on verse 5 0
The arrow pierced the apple perched on Wilhelm Tell’s son’s head.
He mustn’t care for apples much, the puzzled peasants said.
But Keano is the Wilhelm Tell of Ireland’s rebel nation,
And hopefully we’ll see again that archer celebration.
Leave a comment on verse 6 0
Tributes to Swiss chocolate run to many reams of print,
Some will swear by Suchard, whereas others go for Lindt,
And Toblerone is loved by all, though I must tell you this,
There’s none will be as sweet as Irish vict’ry ‘gainst the Swiss.