Thursday, November 8, 2007

Written in the Scriptures

The whispers of the Pharisees
Are carried softly on the breeze.
What scurrilous half-truths they mouth
Against this son of county Louth,
Who suffered in Orlando’s heat
When Ireland faced the world’s elite.
Oh how they mock this flaxen man
That answers to the name of Stan,
And claim that one so young of age
Will freeze upon the World Cup stage,
And has a C.V. far too short
To make it in this cut-throat sport.
For who, they ask, would choose a person
Lower even than Paul Merson
On whom to pin this country’s hopes
With us already on the ropes?
Who double-checked his resumé?
And where is Walsall, anyway?
But listen yet to John Delaney,
Renowned for being awful brainy,
Ireland’s scheming football chief,
Is confident in his belief
That Staunton and his holy band
Can lead us to the Promised Land.
And was there not another John
In Galilee in times long gone
Who set the people’s hearts on fire
By pointing out the new Messiah?
And was that man who took our sins
Not plucked from humble origins,
Born in a lowly cattle shed,
Not too unlike Walsall, it’s said?
Yet still, although his deity
Glowed bright for all the world to see,
Still some of his detractors scoffed
And chided long and chided oft,
And snidely cast aspersions on
The legend of The Chosen One.
For when they saw him on a mule,
They took him for a wet-eared fool,
Not believing one so humble
Might soon cause the world to crumble.
And so Steve Staunton takes the job,
Along with his disciple, Bob,
While Doubting Tom and Doubting Pat
Raise very doubting eyes at that,
For they’d foreseen a bigger wheel
Like Trappatoni or O’Neill,
Who’d rouse the spirit, beat the drum,
And heroically would overcome.
Instead of which, we have a young
Incumbent now of unsure tongue,
Who, many doubt, will scarce progress
To lead us from the Wilderness.
Can Stan restore our football pride,
Or will he end up crucified?

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