Dear oh dear

Dear, oh dear, that was humiliating.

That really wasn't very good, I fear.

Reus and Őzil bossed us,

made us feel we were imposters

and the mauling dished out cost us dear, oh dear.

Jesus Christ, now that was an embarrassment

as through our ranks they effortlessly sliced.

They were standing round and joking,

some were drinking schnapps and smoking

and we ended up invoking Jesus Christ.

A mauling was what the Germans gave us.

The gulf in class was utterly appalling.

We dithered convolutedly,

bewildered fans gazed mutedly

on what was undisputedly a mauling.

Consolation? Well, the teamwork of the Germans

was worthy of grudging-given ovation.

Little Big Horn? General Custer?

They exposed our brawn and bluster

and our final goal was just a consolation.

Ambition now is just to finish second

if we can bounce back from this attrition.

For it wasn't very nice now

and it’s hard to give advice now.

Paddy Power, son, what price now our ambition?

Ireland 1 Germany 6 (WC 2014 Qualifier)

The new Lansdowne

Oh John Delaney, thank you for your letter
Offering a seat in Lansdowne Road.
The graphics show the place will look much better
Than Irish football’s previous abode.

I’d really like to join you in this venture
To bring this country even further glory.
A real fan would have to have dementia
Not to want to join you in this story.

Sadly though, I must decline your offers.
I won’t be one of Irish football’s backers.
Tragically the Goulding household coffers
Don’t extend to seven thousand smackers.

If ever I’m enriched by antique pottery,
If ever I amount to very much,
If ever I should come up in the lottery,
Rest assured, I’ll surely get in touch.

Reiding the game

Eamo cannot understand
Why Trap will not play Andy.
“The best left foot in all the land
Must surely come in handy.
He’s far more gifted than, say, Hunt,
And really makes things happen.
He’ll feed the boyos we’ve up front,
Young Doyler and his cap’n.”

But though I favour Andy Reid
When victory is nearing,
If we should go on to concede,
Then Reid goes disappearing.
He doesn’t do much tracking back,
He doesn’t do much tackling.
In truth he comes across as slack,
When midfield needs tight shackling.

Oh Eamonn, you’re just one of those
Who loves to spout baloney.
I’ll put my faith in one who knows –
That’s Signor Trapattoni.

‘Twas the night of Eurovision

‘Twas the night of Eurovision
And the Serbs had come to town.
It was not a hard decision
Which to choose.
So we headed off for Croker
For the Serbian showdown,
Knowing well ‘twould be a choker
Should we lose.
And we yelled for Trapattoni
To cast out the old baloney
That had made our recent hist’ry
Somewhat arduous and stony.
Would our future become clearer?
Was the Holy Grail now nearer?
Oh our hopeful hearts were welcoming
The Trapattoni era.
Que sera
What will be
Bring it on.

‘Twas the night of Eurovision
And the Serbs weren’t quite on song.
We howled with some derision
As a group.
Though ourselves, we weren’t too perky
As so many moves went wrong
Did we have another turkey
In the coop?
Then McShane behaved slapdashly
Playing offside somewhat rashly
And their striker latched onto it
Chipped it over Kiely brashly.
Was it nul points for Irlanda?
Yes, we looked at our commander.
Would he answer Colm Murray
With veracity and candour?
Que sera
What will be
Bring it on.

‘Twas the night of Eurovision
And the minutes ticked away.
With Italian supervision,
Nothing changed.
We were still as far from winning,
Thought supporters in dismay,
This was not the new beginning
We’d arranged.
Then a moment of Serb folly
And young Keogh smashed home a volley
And the mood was lifted instantly,
No longer melancholy.
Douze points shall be our slogan,
Andy Keogh is Johnny Logan,
But will Signor Trap turn into
An Italian Terry Wogan?
Que sera
What will be
Bring it on.

.

Ireland 1 Serbia 1 (Friendly)

Joe Trapattoni’s waiting

Too long we’ve been sitting here on our own,
Waiting for a hero to pick up the phone. (ooh)

A match in Croke Park can become a bad dream,
People think we have a world-beating team.
Great expectations can lead to a fall
Playing’gainst Cyprus and drawing two all

Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)
Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)

With Joe we think we can go all the way
Odds on we’ll be bringing home Jules Rimet (ooh)

Nobody cares if the football is dull,
Winning our games will keep stadia full.
This is our only escape from it all
Seeing our name on that chart on the wall.

Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)
Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)

A match in Croke Park can become a bad dream,
Joe is the man who can raise our esteem.
And when the World Cup is heading our way
We’ll celebrate in the Tardelli way

Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)
Joe Trapattoni’s waiting, talking Italian (talking Italian)
Marco Tardelli’s waiting (talking Italian)