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From Mallin Head to Mizen Head, from Ardee down to Ennis,
Men are wondering how to cope with hours and hours of tennis.
Their football season’s over with its beer-fuelled exhortation,
And now they must prepare to go on summer hibernation.
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The summer months will be a drag, you’d bet your life upon it,
And, hard as it may seem, some people start to miss Rob Bonnett.
This football bug is like a drug, a devious addiction,
And enforced absence only serves to heighten the affliction.
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But now there is a remedy, a nicotinal patch,
The chance to venture out and watch a real live football match.
It isn’t very hard to do – it’s done in easy stages,
Starting off with looking further than the telly pages.
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The nationals all give fixture lists, with kick-off time and venue.
Step Two is picking out a dish from this extensive menu.
Location is important, and the smooth flow of the traffic,
For reasons to pick out a game are mainly geographic.
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Prise yourself out of the sofa, find your summer jacket.
Bring a little money, though it won’t cost you a packet.
Walk or drive or catch the bus, or even take a taxi,
For nothing’s worse than spending Friday nights upon your jacksie.
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Things will seem quite odd, you might experience paralysis,
There’ll be no action replays and no studio analysis.
There’s something else called ‘atmosphere’ with all its nervous tensions,
And you’ll also find the match is being played in three dimensions.
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But after three or four league games, you’ll slowly start conceding
Your craving for the Premiership is gradually receding.
For football is a dish served up from natural ingredients,
And not, as Sky would have us think, from hype and sheer expedience.