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.