He seemed to think that this bloke was so special,
That the sunshine did emanate from his behind!

The discussion was heated, and remarks became personal,
And parentage sometimes was called into doubt,
And expressions were used that concerned sex and travel,
And numerous insults were bandied about.

Now these things are common with the best of companions,
When football's discussed from the North to the South,
And so in keeping with the finest of Gaelic traditions,
I drew out and hit him a slap in the mouth!

Now you'd think that the barman, being from Armagh city,
Would understand my strong feelings, in this regard,
But the two-faced oul turncoat, he let me down badly,
He roared in my face, "Outside, Boy- You're barred!"

The very next night, I went on a bit farther,
To a pub where soccer was the game that they played,
  And fell in straightaway with a great bunch of fellas,
And sure the crack it got better the longer we stayed!

We were SO sorry England were not the World Champions,
But them Boys from Brazil, they were just different class,
And no wonder Roy Keane could not play for Ireland,
With Dunphy's oul' head stuck so far up his ass!

But then I heard one of them footballing arseholes,
Who talk Man United from morning till night,
And never cop on that the rest of the universe,
Thinks that they're just talking absolute shite!

It was 'Giggsy', and 'Keano' and brilliant wee 'Scholesey',
And there's only so much of that crap you can take,
So purely to shut off the dammed noise pollution,
I drew out and hit him a slap in the bake!

Now the barman turned round, and I got a shock,
For across his back of his shirt was wrote 'Beckham'
He refused to accept that I'd the best of intentions,
And he landed me out on the street, so feck'im!
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