♫♫
It’s a long way to Russia ’18,
Group D’s just half way through,
Best to stay near a handy latrine,
For when you need a sudden poo!
Goodbye constipation,
Farewell gas and air!
It’s a long way to Russia ’18,
So crap like a bear!
♫♫
O Seamus boy, the Welsh, we Welsh are wailing,
From crumbling street to budget superstore.
Your leg is bust and Ireland’s lost its captain,
It’s that what matters, not the bloody draw.
And when you rage and label him a jackal,
And when you curse the cruel stabs of pain,
Remember this: Taylor could never tackle,
He meant no harm and won’t wear the Red again.
♫♫
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure ’tis not a pretty sight,
Now they have a four point cushion,
And we face an uphill fight.
Next up are tricky Serbia –
Never easy at their place –
And now them Serbs are smirking,
Cos we cannot play our ace.
As usual,sheer poetry. That needs to be sung. But not by me.
Come the day and come the hour,
Come the power and the glory!
We have come to answer Roy Keane’s call,
smash the Taffs and frighten them
Ireland, Ireland,
Together hoofing balls
Shoulder to jawbone
Whelan elbowed Allen’s jaw
From the mighty dales of Burnley
From the rugged hills of Stoke
Our men aren’t known for subtlety
And our tactics ain’t a joke
Ireland, Ireland,
Together crying foul!
We don’t like Welsh rough stuff
Although we dish it out
Hearts of chalk and mouths still moaning
Vowing revenge for the leg twas broken
We will foul until we can kick no more,
From the four corners of Cardiff City stadium
Ireland, Ireland,
O’Neill’s making calls
For Bale to be banned too
He’s talking utter balls
Ireland, Ireland,
We’re looking for a fight
With referees blindsided
We’ll crock those Welsh gobshites!