Through a Young Boys Eyes

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Are we still eighth in the table dad?
My small lad asked of me.
We are, I said with heavy heart
Curse of the devotee

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 He’s witnessed 12 home games this year
He’s cheered and clapped like me.
But left mostly in sadness
We’ve won only the three

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 When he walks back in the door
His mother asks the score
“Disaster mam” he utters
As more points drain down the shore

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 And just like his dear old dad
He won’t stop going to games
Cos we support Cork City
Though our season is in flames

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 And if we lose another few
I’ll elucidate just why?
Players, Gaffers, come and go
But we’re City ‘til we die



After a long unbeaten run City’s season has gone pear shaped, blighted by too many draws.
Eighth might not seem too bad but it’s an 11 team league now.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/through-a-young-boys-eyes/