Thursday, November 8, 2007

Upon a Windswept Limestone Rock / At Least

Upon a windswept limestone rock
That juts out of the ocean,
Where swirling, gliding gannets flock
With custom’ry commotion,
Where tourists have no need to block
The sun with balming lotion,
We all received a well-earned shock
To prick our deep devotion.

We watched the ticking of the clock
With nervous hesitation,
The goal-less scoreline seemed to mock
Our World Cup aspiration.
These prodigies of fishing stock
Withstood our exhortation,
Till Hartey’s penno did unlock
Relief and jubilation.
At Least
We had a fair array of shots,
But most went wide or over.
We could have tied them up in knots
To leave us in the clover.
A two nil win inspired lots
Of railing ‘gainst Jehovah,
But at least we’re better than the Scots
Who drew against Moldova.
Faroe Islands 0 Ireland 2

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