GAA Poetry - post your best poems

[Armagh4SamAgain]

This is a thread for the best GAA poems. Here's one to start with.

THE DAY THAT SAM WAS WON

The autumn sun shone down on us
On that great September day.
As our loyal fans to Dublin went
To see our heroes play

From all around the County
We travelled without fear
For in our hearts we knew right well
That this was Armagh 's year

Our lads they started brightly
Sure it was a sight to see
Mc Donnell take those early scores
Then Clarke and Mc Entee


But Kerry hit right back at us
Their forwards were sublime
And it looked like Sam was heading.
For the Kingdom one more time

Midway through the second half
Kerry led by four
But Armagh did not panic
Encouraged by the roar

Then suddenly it happened
In one long daring raid
The ball it hit the Kerry net
A memory that won't fade

The kick-out came from Tierney
To meet it Marsden ran
Darted on a solo
And linked up with McCann

The ball was slipped to Oisin
The one-two with Mc Grane
Back again with Oisin
For the goal that brought the Sam

The Armagh fans responded
And rocked the Hogan Stand
And Hill 16 ignited When Clarke turned Moynihan

And kicked the equaliser
But the best was still to come
Armagh were on fire
And had Kerry on the run

The Green and Gold were rattled
And now forced to defend
As the men in Orange kept sweeping
Towards the Railway End

A beauty from Mc Donnell
And our boys were in the lead
There was nothing left in Kerry
Despite their football breed

When the final whistle sounded
McGeeney had the ball
He raised his arm in victory
And upon his knees did fall

And when he held the Cup aloft
In that sea of Orange below
Our supporters raised their flags on high
And shouted for Big Joe


So let's salute our gallant men
Who made the dream come true
And beat the mighty Kerry
In the year 2002

Each name is now imprinted
In every heart and mind
For they took the Sam Maguire home
For the first historic time.

By Joe McManus

Geart stuff all together!!

[Aristotle Flynn]

School holidays  .

[Donagh]

The Francis Street Maiden (to the tune of "If I Were A Blackbird")

I'm a Francis Street maiden, my story is sad,
Of late I've been courted by a young Peter's lad,
But my father's a Clans-man, he has other plans,
He'd rather I'd wed with a boy from the Clans.

CHORUS
If I were a blackbird, I'd whistle and sing,
I'd follow the team that my true love plays in;
When the game would be over and he'd take his rest,
I'd pillow my head on his lily-white breast.

I went to the Tarry one evening in May
With the brave Lily-Whites just to see my love play;
And though they were beaten, he's the one I love still,
For my heart ever clings to Distillery Hill

CHORUS

Now two loving hearts would be filled with content,
If only my father would give his consent;
I know he'd protect me from all harm and hurt
And I'd wash whiter than "Persil" his Lily-White shirt

CHORUS

[Bensars]

Anyone Prayed for this mornin A4SA ?

[Donagh]

Oh list to the wails of the Clan-na-Gaels
And see their sad tears flowing
For the Green Cross Cup is papered up
And to Freecrow it is going.
Now the Clans I know, did boast and blow -
Believe me when I tell it
They even vowed the Peters' crowd
Would never even smell it

Well, man alive, at half past five
On a Sunday that game started
When I saw the Blues - give them their dues -
I was a bit downhearted.
And I can't deny at the start, sure I
Had got an awful feeling,
That the boys in Blue were going to
Give our Wee Whites a creeling

Well the Clans with speed took a two-point lead
That left the Peters flustered
But to my delight the boys in White
Their forces soon had mustered
And Tommy Doran, the Whites' star turn
Sent a beauty o'er the rafter
And my spirits soared when Dessie scored
Another point soon after

To take a free went Joey, he
Put the Whites in front, boys!
Then Sean McCann, the Clans' best man
Up the field the ball did punt, boys.
And young McStay, without delay,
For the Clans sent in a whopper,
And the outstretched hands of Harry Sands -
Alas! they failed to stop 'er.

Well, you know the rest, though they tried their best
The Whites to overwhlem
There is no doubt they were held out
By Casey, Young and Phelim.
And at time up we'd won the Cup,
And our hearts with joy were brimming,
For 'twas grand, bedads, to see our lads
Give the Clan-na-Gaels a trimming.


Jimmy Creaney circa 1945

[Armagh4SamAgain]

Armagh's Fighting Boys

Armagh and the fighting men
Are out to win again
To take the Sam and win it
Bring it back to Crossmaglen

We've won the Sam before
And I'm sure we can win it again
To watch the men of Crossmaglen
And to see them fight again

It's getting sick of Kerry
And their weeping boys
Its needs new hands to touch it
like the Armagh fighting boys

It loved the weather in Armagh
It's the truth it couldn't deny
The Lurgan boys were smiling
As the Kerry boys cried

As McGeeney held the Sam up high
You could hear them all roar
This is Sam's home now
and forever more

[Silky]

Tribute to Nicky Rackard

http://www.askaboutireland.ie/asset?id=4578

[Kerry Mike]

It's getting sick of Kerry
And their weeping boys
Its needs new hands to touch it
like the Armagh fighting boys

It loved the weather in Armagh
It's the truth it couldn't deny
The Lurgan boys were smiling
As the Kerry boys cried

As McGeeney held the Sam up high
You could hear them all roar
This is Sam's home now
and forever more

There's only one answer to that:  Kerry 3-15 - Armagh 1-13  (5th Aug 2006)

This is Sam's home now
and forever more

I am sure Sam has visited Tyrone and Kerry a few times each since then....

[Orior]

Its not GAA related, but I like it anyway....

The Ballad of Wlliam Bloat.

In a mean abode on the Shankill Road
Lived a man named William Bloat;
And he had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who always got his goat.
'Til one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He slit her pretty throat.

With a razor gash he settled her hash
Oh never was crime so quick
But the steady drip on the pillowslip
Of her lifeblood made him sick.
And the pool of gore on the bedroom floor
Grew clotted and cold and thick.

Now he was right glad he had done as he had
As his wife lay there so still
But a sudden awe of the mighty law
Filled his heart with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun
He resolved himself to kill.

He took the sheet from his wife's cold feet
And twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf,
'Twas an easy end, let's hope.
In the face of death with his latest breath
He said "to hell with the Pope."

Now the strangest turn in this whole concern
Is only just beginning.
He went to Hell, but his wife got well
And is still alive and sinning.
For the razor blade was Dublin made
But the sheet was Belfast linen.

[Guillem2]

I know a slightly different version of that old favorite.

The Ballad of William Bloat

In a mean abode on the Skankill Road
Lived a man named William Bloat;
He had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who continually got his goat.
So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He slit her bloody throat.

2. With a razor gash he settled her hash
Never was crime so slick
But the drip drip drip on the pillowslip
Of her lifeblood made him sick.
And the knee-deep gore on the bedroom floor
Grew clotted and cold and thick.

3. And yet he was glad he had done what he had
When she lay there stiff and still
But a sudden awe of the angry law
Struck his heart with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun
He resolved himself to kill.

4. He took the sheet from the wife's coul' feet
And twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf,
'Twas an easy end, let's hope.
In the face of death with his latest breath
He solemnly cursed the Pope.

5. But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is only just beginning.
He went to Hell but his wife got well
And she's still alive and sinnin',
For the razor blade was Sheffield made
But the sheet was Belfast linen. 

[Aristotle Flynn]

Armagh4Sam Again's Ode for Kieran McGeeney

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

[magpie seanie]

Awaiting O'Neill's contribution with much anticipation....

[Armagh4SamAgain]

Thats very good mr Flynn an i do like it but could you not change it to say a we bit more about his football? I meen it doesnt even say anything about Armagh.

[heganboy]

Well done aristotle I'm slightly afraid that some ^ may feel its all your own work...

[Onlooker]

Thanks Silky for the tribute to Nicky Rackard.  That song says it all of what the G.A.A. means to so many of us.