The Championship
Each year
We went on pilgrimage
To Mullingar or Longford
Or sometimes Tullamore,
Reasonable men
In coloured caps and hatbands,
To roar and cheer
And shout
At other reasonable men
In alien coloured hatbands.
We rose
With hopes that soared
On fingertips
And dizzy palpitations,
And swelled with indignation
At what might have been,
Our hopes perennial.
We travelled home again
In cortege,
Annually,
Where cows were vexed for milking
To lament and brood,
And live
Again
Like reasonable men
Where stalks might need spraying...
And swallows dipped
From rafter's edge
That clutched
In saucers
Overhead,
And dived across
A manger beam
Where wide eyed cats
Would watch unseen,
And hopes were dashed
With parting scream,
That fled
September
Annually.
But they would come
Again,
To build,
Refurbish and renew,
When reasonable men
In May
Again
Would go on pilgrimage.