USA is good at football

Team USA needed a win
But this football was not pigskin
And since Iran missed quite a few
A single goal puts the yanks through


At least he didn’t stab it

A nasty young man from Stab City
Would do things that weren’t very pretty
He once traveled east
And paid off a priest
To lick a Kilkenny nun’s kitty


It’s All-Ireland time

It’s time to plan our match watching bash
It’s time to see the clash of the ash
It’s time to hang the amber and black
It’s time for cats to get Liam back


To be the man, you got to drive the van!

Last night I drove a campervan
I drove it from Kildare
I drove it like the Macho Man
I drove it like Ric Flair
I drove the camper for a friend
I drove it to their pad
I’ll drive the campervan again
Or else I will be sad


Kingpin of Kilkenny

I like to sit around and roll
So I decide, I’m gonna bowl
I see the pins and throw the ball
I aim it straight to hit them all
The ball goes left, I hit but one
I roll again, that ball hits none
It’s been a while and that’s a fact
But honestly, I feel attacked
I hit just five in the next frame
Frames three through nine were much the same
I then decide I need to change
The balls I rolled, they all felt strange
They hurt my fingers quite a bit
I need a ball with holes that fit
I start to search the bowling hall
To find my Cinderella ball
There’s one behind a rubbish pile
My fingers fit, I start to smile
I slide it down the well-oiled lane
The red-necked pins explode with pain
Now that’s the bowling that I like
It took ten frames to bowl a strike
And now I get to throw twice more
Another strike! I start to roar!
Just like a bowler in their prime
I get a third, it’s turkey time!
So if you’re feeling in the pits
Just find yourself a hole that fits


Chilly Willie’s willy

There once was a skier named Willie
Who never was warm, but was chilly
The story was told
He always was cold
And ended up with shrinking willy


Curable curse

The Mayo lads have lost again
Some say it is a curse
The crime committed by those men?
Not stopping for a hearse
In ’51 the jinx was cast
And only one remains
The rest are gone, he is the last
To rid Mayo of pains
But Dr. Mick is not to blame
For chances that were missed
Next year they’ll need to work on aim
And then Sam will be kissed


Mayo for Sam!

The folks in Mayo have the reek
Some people climb it every week
They pray to god and kill a lamb
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

Sligo and Leitrim both were beat
The tribesmen soon met their defeat
They told those Dublin lads to scram
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

In Westport there is red and green
The likes of which are rarely seen
Though Galway might not give a damn
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

It’s been a long time since they’ve won
The last time – 1951
They’ll prove the curse was just a sham
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”


She took all the juice from the humpback

There once was a surfer named Lulu
Who rode big waves in Honolulu
She also rode Ken
Who hung more than ten
His longboard would make her go cuckoo



England suffers from football fate
They forgot to close the Southgate
Rashford, Sancho and young Saka
At penalties, they were caca
But here across the Irish Sea
No tears were shed for those missed three
We celebrate – #ItsGoingRome
Meanwhile our team never left home


The road to anywhere

Before you end up on a gurney
Make sure you plan a jaunty journey
Look at the map, pick a direction
It does not have to meet perfection
If flawless becomes your fixation
You’ll never find your destination
The purpose of this merry mission
To have fun on your expedition
So pick a route and start your roaming
To Wexford, Wicklow or Wyoming
To go somewhere beats going nowhere
Appreciate just how you got there


I hope someone will say – fair play!

I get food from the take-away
And Monday week is next Monday
When driving over to Galway
I take the Dual Carriageway
Post X-mas is St. Stephen’s Day
And fourteen stones is what I weigh
The pitch is where the hurlers play
I keep on learning every day


Chunder the wonder jockey

A dwarf was in a Dino race
You should have seen his smiling face
They started at a mighty pace
He fell behind but soon gave chase
Though his first time, he rode with grace
Beginners luck could be the case
That dwarf he rode just like an ace
And so he finished in first place!


Thick, arrogant prick

Hogan’s sorry he got caught
Is he sorry? Not a lot!
He still claims he did no wrong
That is why we say “SO LONG!”


How many weeks was he minister? Fore!

An eejit named Dara Calleary
Went golfing in Galway – my deary
Our very strict rules
Are flaunted by fools
This government’s making us weary


He wants “Fore!” more years

A man is not a man
Who golfs while many die
He has no thoughtful plan
He does not even try


What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks?!?

In California, the weather is nice
So they play hockey inside and on ice
On the Emerald Isle, you can freeze your ass
So they play hockey outside and on grass


Halfway to Paddy’s day

Boiling praties in a pot
Wearing wellies my mum bought
Hoping Rory score a try
Matching braces with my tie
Drying trousers out the back
Giving out and what’s the craic?
Chancing for a shift or shag
Living here is not a drag


He slashes – he scores!

When there’s a full moon
And it’s Friday the 13th
Jason plays hockey


Seeing red

Hurling is rough
Gotta be tough
Smacked in the nose
That’s how it goes
Play really hard
Get a red card
Icing his bruise
Watch his team lose
Back in the town
Everyone’s down
But no one sneers
He still gets cheers


Not that there’s anything wrong with that

There once was a father named Eamonn
Who got a big kick out of gay men
He liked how they’d play
With shirts off all day
Abú, hallelujah and amen!


There’s always next year

Sportsball isn’t fun
The Patriots won
New England is glad
The rest of us sad
Old England won too
The green boys are blue
The cats got a loss
Jizztrumpet’s still boss
This world is all wrong
Let’s toke on this bong


Katelyn Ohashi is perfect

A Bruin is good in gymnastics
Her flips suggest she’s made of plastics
Her work on the floor
Earned a perfect score
The Twitterverse tweeted – “fantastics!”


What’s worse than a curse?

There is an airport out in Knock
Where there ain’t much but stone and rock
The Holy Mary was seen there
With Joseph floating in the air
So Pope Frank went to see the church
Where Joe and Mary once did perch
The airport staff waited in line
To give Francis a shirt to sign
A jinx he was asked to reverse
In hopes of ending Mayo’s curse
Instead of such a petty task
A thousand things they could have asked
About abuse by priests and nuns
The church has failed the little ones
Little remorse, barely regret
Before he left them in his jet


Three to one odds

There once was a lad named Fitzpatrick
In football he tallied a hat trick
His favorite game
Was given a name
Three women in bed was a cat trick


I want gulaš for all

France and Croatia
Roosters versus tablecloths
The World Cup Final


Water restrictions in Ireland?!?

It’s been so long without the rain
Sure it’s as hot as France or Spain
The whitest Irish has a tan
We’re now under a hosepipe ban
With dirty cars and dying plants
We need to do a Riverdance
Dry kiddie pools – ain’t that a bitch
While water sprays the hurling pitch!


Another OK day

Fill the shelves with books and games
Put the pictures into frames
Find a home for all the socks
Set the time on all the clocks
Football to distract my brain
Anything to numb the pain


Day 11 of 24

It’s World Cup time for real football
But if you sneeze, these players fall
My countries are not even there
I wonder why I really care
I pick a team so I can cheer
Then celebrate or shed a tear
But watching all games can be rough
So every four years is enough


Well done lad!

There once was a hurler named TJ
Whose Kilkenny Cats had a field day
The fans all adored
How often he scored
They queued up to give him a BJ


New fight song?

We all hail from Mayo
And we wear the green and red
We’re on fire
For Sam Maguire
We’ll root until we’re dead
From the boggy plains of Mayo
To the blue Atlantic shore
In every house with thatch
When there’s a football match
The whole county starts to roar!

M! (3 claps)
A! (3 claps)
Y! (3 claps)
O! (3 claps)

M-A-Y-O! #UpMayo

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