Friday, 19 October 2012

No one ever said it was going to be easy.

Right, no one ever said it was going to be easy.
This is keeping me calm as I think of an Aftershave Ocean, The Vaccines

My 5 year old who has up to now shown little interest in music took me to one side the other night and asked to get this song on the radio in my car. I was intrigued, Brazilian Hip Hop wouldn't have been my forté, he's a great lad

Here's a little extra this week, a little modern day 80's, I was introduced to this by my friend K-Hill and when I told him it sounded like the Blue Nile mixed with Go West , the young fella hadn't a clue but it does. Twin Shadow - The One.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

Right Here, Right Now

Right, here's what's on the ipod at the minute.
Best Coast and a tune called Do You Love Me Like You Used To?

The XX hve a new album out called Coexist and this is the standout track, Sunset.

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

All Apologies

All Apologies

The youth of today just won’t understand
What life in the eighties was like
Food on the table was paramount
And very few kids had a bike.

England was being run into the ground
A battle scene version of Hades
Labour Left Liverpool cast adrift
By Margaret the Iron lady

What happened on that April day
Embodied that Tory decease
Third class fans in rundown grounds
Impunity for the police

Duckenfield, clueless, out of his depth,
Up to his neck in pain and death
In Devon where he lays his head
May that day haunt your every breath

Pitiless Poppers post-mortem
Deliberate, callous and cruel
Accidental death at three fifteen?
Who were you trying to fool?

Thatchers police had served her so well
Waving notes at the down trodden miners
Cover up, statements were altered
How evil was blood testing minors?

Tory Boy Patnick went to work
Casting shame on the dead and the dying
For planting lies a knighthood earned
We always knew you were lying

And now the truth is out at last
They spout their sickly faux sorry
They’ll get what’s coming soon enough
Justice will see them the quarry

Thatcher now old and quite senile
Still an icon of anger and hate
No rejoicing til she’s safe and sound
In the Hades she tried to create

Great to see the truth finaly come out, a disgrace it took so long.
This poem equally applies to the Graham Kelly, Boris Johnson, the evil Kelvin McKenzie and all the other fools who believed the lies.
Your apologies are worthless.

Friday, 7 September 2012

Through a young boys eyes

Through a young boys eyes.
Are we still eighth in the table dad?
My small lad asked of me.
We are, I said with heavy heart
Curse of the devotee

He’s witnessed 12 home games this year
He’s cheered and clapped like me.
But left mostly in sadness
We’ve won only the three

When he walks back in the door
His mother asks the score
“Disaster mam” he utters
As more points drain down the shore

And just like his dear old dad
He won’t stop going to games
Cos we support Cork City
Though our season is in flames

And if we lose another few
I’ll elucidate just why?
Players, Gaffers, come and go
But we’re City ‘til we die
Still eighth with the teams below us closing fast.
We could be in trouble if we don't win a match soon.

Friday, 31 August 2012


Corky the cheetah is number 84
He came knock knocking upon my door.
When he looked through the window,
We were hiding on the floor.

We were scared, you see,
Of his sharp and shiny teeth.
So we dived on the carpet
And hid under our seat.

We then found out
He was a cute and kindly cat
Plays football with the kids
In Douglas every Sat.

So if you see Corky
He won't eat you alive
Don't be scared of him
Just give him a high five.

Sasha O'Keeffe
Aged 9

Published in the Cork City match day programme for the game against St Patricks Athletic on August 13th 2012.
Also acclaimed as Football Poets poem of the week on August 30th 2012

Friday, 24 August 2012

One in Ten

One in Ten
One in ten and fading fast
Victories, all in the past
As Vera said, we’ll win again
Don’t know where, don’t know when

So if we take the lead
We totally recede
We sit back and defend
Afraid that we’ll distend

Without fail we concede
No more shall we lead
Supporters groan and frown,
Players’ heads go down

And if we are consigned
To cruelly go behind
We all sit there disgusted
The game is done and dusted

We’re fragile and frail
Leaderless, we fail
Facing the unknown
Sinking like a stone

Deemed unstuitable for the official match programme.
Too critical.
After one win in ten it's not critical enough for me.

Monday, 20 August 2012


Welcome all to Turners Cross
The Devils, Hornets, Barstool
I won’t be there I’m afraid
I’ll be sipping beer by the pool

A well deserved break in the sun
Somewhere foreign, beyond the sea,
Sun and funshine for everyone
Underneath a shady palm tree

As the wind whips across Section A
I will be well out of reach
Don’t bother thinking of me
As I’m sipping Sagres on the beach

Enjoy the half time hot toddy
As I’m buried in sand by the sea
Flor Griffin there with fingers crossed
As they lose yet another TV

In essence games of no importance
As the waves just lap on the shore
But if you can still feel your fingers
Don’t forget to text me the score.

This was written a few weeks back for the friendlies against Watford and Manchester United and while it wasn't deemed suitable for those match programmes (sigh).
I'm putting it up here for your delectation.

Friday, 13 July 2012

Listen Up Pop Pickers

Right, here's what's in my ear piece this week.
Dark Horses and a tune called Radio.

This is by Howler and it's called This Ones Different.

The Vaccines are back with the nicest song i've heard in a while, catchy choon.
It's like me "No Hope".

Thursday, 28 June 2012


Trappatoni doing it his way, damn the nation
An old man with an old plan, dull formation
His way or the highway, sure he’s misunderstood
Like it or lump it, we would if we could.

Six years since Duffer last took on his man
We yearn for the days of Kev O’Callaghan
Cap grabber Given, hurt or run of the mill?
Robbie’s retired to the Hollywood Hills

First four halves, we conceded early on
Rained on us consistently, no one shone,
Ward used to rampage down the wing in his prime
Transformed, dodgy full back, not the boys’ crime

Too many hacks hungry for sensation
Straw grabbing latest juicy revelation
Looking for a scapegoat like Dunphy long go
Roy’s hatred of losing provides the ammo

Deflected the focus from pitiful stuff
Haven’t real Irish fans suffered enough?
Trap has presided o’er the worst ever seen
And insulted our nation by using Paul Green

Monday, 18 June 2012

It's Great To Be Back

It's Great To Be Back

Been out of the game these last seven weeks.
For reasons quite boring and trite
The telly’s not bad with the Croats or Greeks
But you can’t beat the live Friday night

With the country all gripped in a fever
While Irish players huffed and they puffed
Explaining to daydream believers
As to whether it’s pumped or it’s stuffed

The Olé brigade sing a powerful ditty
While average players stand by
But I’d rather be shouting for City
Than some field in far off Athenry

It’s Derry this week with Jonah McCourt
Curragh Road with Lucas and dad
Joining my brethren in sacred support
To watch my dear City, how bad?

This Friday will be my first game in 7 weeks, I cannot wait.

Friday, 1 June 2012

I'm back

After a few months of study hibernation, i'm back.
College was hard first time round, it's harder 20 years later.
Anyway I heard this choon by Bleech and I thought it was good, it's called Adrenaline Junkie.


and then there's this by Beach House, it's called Myth

Tuesday, 3 April 2012


Due to this horrendous streak
I’m in confession every week
Trying hard not to seethe and fume
With my children in the room

My tongue is almost bitten through
Before me things I can’t construe
That Carroll lad stupidly falling
Cringe worthy and duly appalling

I’ve a simpler solution to stalling
Put the ball in the net before sprawling
Who were Pardews lot trying to fool?
Is the keeper Dan Simpson or Krul?

Cissés second would not be denied
As he stood three or four yards offside
With Linesman inactive, the crime
Though his eyesight improved over time

Time now to regroup and retrench
“King” Kenny, he emptied the bench
That could backfire I said
Pepe using and losing the head

Poor Perch he was shot by a sniper
As Pepe bit hard like a viper
Still wounded escaped second yellow
Hauling Suarez down, dastardly fellow

Always going to be lambs to the slaughter
When no one on the team could pass water
There’s so much to improve and discuss
Played like lads introduced on the bus

It’s now become such a drag
The search for the on-i-on bag
There’s only one fix to promote
A banquet of nice curried goat

Another pitiful display at Newcastle on Palm Sunday, I don't know what was harder to endure, the longest mass of the year with two restless children or 90 minutes of sheer hell from the Loadsamoney Arena.
Alan Pardew let the cat out of the bag afterwards by announcing that the secret of Papiss Cissés success is a diet of curried goat.
Liverpool were unlucky with key decisions that went against them but when it comes to the crunch they are just not good enough.

Monday, 12 March 2012

Music Update

Right, here's what I'm listening to at the moment.
A New York band called We Are Augustines, this is Chapel Song.

This is by the Wonder Villains they are from the North and this is called Ferrari.

Don't forget to purchase the new album by the Frank and Walters called Greenwich Mean Time.
Here's the recent single "Indie Love Song".

and also the new Wedding Present album Valentina is being released next week.

Sunday, 4 March 2012

The Barn Door

The Barn Door
Just close your eyes, picture this if you can
Mad money each week, yet still only a man
You’re given the chance from just twelve yards away
It’s now four defeats in the last seven played

Fortress called Anfield is a thing of the past
Four wins in thirteen, faithful sit there aghast
Opposing teams keepers who a cold couldn’t catch
Coincidence they’re all getting man of the match?

Always conflict and drama surrounding the club
Would have been better handled by a few down the pub
Fire fighting not football the name of the game
Cantankerous Kenny adding fire to the flame

Why can’t they just put the ball in the net?
Creating the chances without being a threat
That barn door from training will just have to go
Relying on Bessie and her five string banjo

6 penalites missed already this season (not including shoot outs). Again last Saturday you had players fighting over the ball, this should be all sorted out in advance.
Dire home form resulting in no chance of Champions League qualification.
An appalling 8.5% success rate from chances created.
If only Torres had stayed, he'd have 40 goals.

Thursday, 9 February 2012


That lad Sturridge, he’s so cool
Clint Hill taken for a fool
Why isn’t his head hung in shame?
This is no longer a fair game

Adam Johnsons in the box
Thinking of who he’ll outfox
Ahead Chris Baird and falling snow
Who put him down? We’ll never know.

A dive inside the Chelsea area?
No, not that cad from far Bulgaria
The Serb removes his leg to show
Daniel Wellbeck, callous throw

All the Spurs fans gaily sing
Bale goes marching down the wing
Agger takes his leg away
Here’s hoping he’ll stay up one day.

The game is plagued by cheating but it's become far worse in recent weeks.

I wasn't even going to write about it because its endemic but when I saw that Alan Shearer on MOTD last Saturday night condoning Adam Johnson's blatant dive, that was the last straw.

It's ruining the game.

Good article here on the whole sorry mess.

Poor Gareth Bale.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

This week I'll be mostly listening to...

Nice melodic offering from School of Seven Bells
It's called Lafaye.

A song from Australian artist Gotye featuring New Zealand singer Kimbra called "Somebody I Used to Know"

Tuesday, 24 January 2012



Sometimes I get the feeling where
In order to write I need despair
Cue Bolton away
Last Saturday
And clumps of my remaining hair.

Glen Johnsons defensively weak
Maxi’s too scared and too meek
Charlie Adam, not pretty
Andy Carroll, a pity
That’s just my shortened critique

Dirk and Pepe, our always secure
Looking out of form and unsure
Not fatalistic,
It’s all quite hard to endure

Tactics must be stared in the face
A defensive midfielder replaced
Standards need mending
The Season is ending
Will the Carling Cup save us from grace?