Outplayed, outclassed, outsmarted,
the Irish team kept fighting.
All hope had long departed,
the wall replete with writing.
Downcast, distraught, dejected,
we watched the savage mauling.
Our rear was not protected.
The Spanish wolves came crawling.
But then we were dumbfounded
as church bells started ringing.
A mighty roar resounded –
ten thousand voices singing.
Neck-hairs stood to attention.
No longer were we dismayed.
We signalled our intention,
although outclassed and outplayed.
Written in response to Kerry's challenge to write a Celtic quatrain at Toads