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.

Two blue strips down the side of the screen

There were two blue strips down the side of the screen,
When Montenegro played against the boys in green.
‘Twas the first time ever that this had been seen –
These two blue strips down the side of the screen.

The Montenegro back four had a torrid night,
For Doyler kept on vanishing out of sight.
Whenever someone tried to mark Robbie Keane,
He’d nip behind the strips down the side of the screen.

At half time Uncle Bill on RTE
Said the strips were the fault of Montenegro TV
“You can blame it on them that these strips are seen,”
He explained about those strips down the side of the screen.

But we who avoid the Giles – Dunphy banter
And switched in the second half over to Setanta,
Discovered there a picture both wide and green
With no blue strips down the side of the screen.

Loria in excelsis deo

Despite the fact we badly yearned
For three points to boost our campaign;
Despite the chances we had spurned
While struggling in the Rhineland’s rain;
Despite the six year barren spell
Wherein we hoped for far too much;
Despite the pleas to come out well
And find again that winning touch;
Despite the fact we crave success
To counter economic gloom;
Despite the fact a massive “YES!!!!”
Blared out from every sitting room;
Yet still a tear or two is shed
For Georgia’s young custodian
Who wishes that he’d learned instead
To play the nickelodeon.

Midnight train to Georgia

Airfares (airfares, oh airfares)
Proved too much for the man.
(Ryanair don’t take you there)
So he decided to go overland.
He might well end up in Kazakhstan
(Or go off track down in Iraq)
So I’m going too
To hold his hand

And he’s leaving (leaving, he’s leaving)
On that midnight train to Georgia
(Leaving on that midnight train)
And we’ll have some fun
And plenty of pints
And I’ll be with him (yes, I will)
On that midnight train to Georgia.
(Leaving on that midnight train)
I’d rather be in Tblisi
Than watch the game live in Mainz
(Mainz, Mainz, leaving on that midnight train)

How was he to know (he couldn’t know)
That the Russians would invade
(Don’t be silly, Saakashvili)
And events would then turn pettier?
But his railway ticket was already paid
(Intercity, what a pity!)
Before we’d even heard
Of South Ossetia.

And now he’s leaving (leaving, he’s leaving)
On that midnight train to Georgia
(Leaving on that midnight train)
And we’ll have some fun
And plenty of pints
And I’ll be with him (yes, I will)
On that midnight train to Georgia.
(Leaving on that midnight train)
I’d rather be in Tblisi
Than watch the game live in Mainz
(Mainz, Mainz, leaving on that midnight train)

.

Doubtless some Irish fans will have been caught out by the sudden switching of the game from Tblisi to Mainz in Germany

Another friendly goal for Robbie

A pin-point slide-rule pass from Duff,
Latched onto in a sure way.
A check and shot were just enough
To Take the lead ‘gainst Norway.

There’s those who say he only nets
In games that do not figure,
That in big games he oft forgets
To aim and pull the trigger.

But what is Keane supposed to do
When friendlies come a-knocking?
Smile and whisper “Toodaloo?”
No, that would be too shocking.

Thirty four our Robbie’s scored,
Now miles ahead of Quinner.
Instinct brings its own reward
And Keano is a winner.

Twenty years

Twenty years! Ah now, Caithlin, it’s hard to believe!
That match still looms fertile and strong all the same.
It’s many a thicket-hedged laneway that we’ve
Meandered in hope since that wonderful game.

Is it really so long since we turned that first page,
Not knowing if it were novella or tome.
Chapter on chapter upon the world’s stage,
New York, Ibaraki, Stuttgart and Rome.

The goal is indelibly etched in our hearts,
But what of the seventy eight minutes still left.
Lineker’s chances from Beardsley’s short darts?
Robson appalled at the scale of the theft?

We’ve come close in the years since that first epic match,
But never quite scaled the dizzying height
Of the ball striking net from young Houghton’s thick thatch,
As the new boys in green beat the old boys in white.