Dads with bags n’ lads with flags
All going to the game
Mams from clubs all watch the dubs
All just doing the same
Touts with tickets – your pocket – they’ll pick it
All outside the ground
Hats n’ headbands, wrist n’ sweatbands
Buses, lost and found
Hot Dogs, burgers, big frankfurters
Before a ball is kicked
Crisps and coke, a wily smoke
Ice creams bought and licked.
Amhrain Na Bhian on the screen
Chests pushed out so proud
Last line sung, here’s the fun
Now it’s getting loud.
Ball thrown in, hear the din
Kicked out near the line
It comes to Brogan out near the Hogan
He curls it in so fine.
Kicks and hustles bangs and bustles
Stretchers and cries of foul
Whistle Blows – a quick kick follows
“Ya boy ya – It’s in the goal!”
Tension mounting, seconds counting
All look at the clock
Nails are nibbled, trousers dribbled
Will it ever stop?
The ref, he blows, the tension flows
Like a river to the sea,
Backs are slapped, lips are tapped
“That showed ya” to a foe
It’s all in taste, and with no time to waste
Soon we have to go.
A snake of blue crowds down a lane or two
Dissecting every move
A murmur bellows from girls and fellows
All set in the groove
All depart to trains and cars
To hotels and to pubs
Still discussing, still they’re fussing
O’er players and the subs
Jerseys creased, conversations ceased
Sunday’s near its end. It’s always been the same
Tired and happy, drunk and sappy
We all enjoyed the game