The Submarine Bar

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The Submarine Bar is up for sale,
A snip at fifteen million.
The price would make the nerve ends quail
For many a Joe or Gillian.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Located out in Walkinstown,
The place is often swaying,
For that is where the craic goes down,
Whenever Ireland’s playing.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 The three-toned hats are on display,
Like something from the Tweenies,
The oul’ wans sing Olé Olé,
And sip their dry martinis.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 All faces cricked up in the air
To watch the television,
They tear their hair out in despair
At every bad decision.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 And if it’s an important match,
Then RTE comes calling,
Trying very hard to catch
The sense that it’s enthralling.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The lads all brandish pints of beer,
And spill slops on their bellies,
And if we score, they give a cheer
And shout out at the tellies.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The pub has come to symbolise
The modern day supporter,
Who watches games through square-shaped eyes
While lowering the porter.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 He’s Irish as his pint of stout,
He roars on Ireland’s goals,
But when the weekend comes, he’ll shout
For Larsson, Giggs and Scholes.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 For football’s best when it is viewed
On thirty six inch screen.
The atmosphere’s far better, dude,
Down in the Submarine.


The natural habitat of the Greater Spotted Irish Football Supporter, commonly referred to as “The Barstool Brigade”

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-submarine-bar/