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In Turner’s Cross they came alive,
Expecting trophies to arrive.
They thought their fortunes would revive
And football down in Cork would thrive.
For two great years, the team did strive
To win things, rather than survive,
And in the Shed they did derive
Great pleasure from the Dolan jive.
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Last year, though, Shels did deprive
Him of the honey from the hive.
And latterly he did connive
With certain players and did contrive
To ridicule the Chairman’s drive,
And call their training pitch a dive.
And so the Chairman murmured, “I’ve
Been writing your P45.”