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The Waiting Game by Aidan Scahill

All the years watching on the Saturday night While over in Montrose they’d pass round the mic The accents from Kerry, the confident tone No sign of a Dub saying Sam’s coming home The years in the doldrums, down in the dumps The Gooch and O’Sé’s all coming up trumps Drowning our sorrows and dishing out blame Unable to watch a replay of the game The ’91 saga, the hurt and the pain Of such a good team falling short once again Watching the trophy go up the N1 Or over to Galway or south with the sun Brolly ran riot, picking pockets galore Maurice Fitz with a sideline that God wouldn’t score I was just gone sixteen when we won ‘95 Charlie saw red but the Hill was alive I remember then thinking there’d be titles aplenty But not a single one came til I was 12 after 20, I’d see Canavan, Cavanagh, McGuigan and co. All lifting the cup and bringing it home I’d see Donnellan and Bergin both hugging Joyce And Joe Kernan crying with barely a voice I’d be sat watching Cork briefly stop their in-fighting Beating Down by a point just to keep it exciting I’ve seen all you can think of in Mayo’s implosions But I’ve yet to find pity among my emotions I’ve seen players retire without a medal to show Now we stand on the cusp of a five in a row It’s hard to believe the success of this crop The hunger, desire, the belief never stop But we waited forever now four come along And hope that there’s five and we’ll put it in song From Cluxton to Mannion, to Fenton and Small They number so many I can’t mention them all The tension is building and the mouth’s getting dry So I’ll head off and hope for the year's bluest sky And I hope against Kerry we’ll put on a show And we’ll beat the old enemy for five in a row.

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