I did a quick google to find a famous kilkenny poet / poem. Best I could muster was this:
Hand, other hand, one, two,
Leg, other leg, one, two,
Head, nose, mouth, chin,
With white teeth inside my mouth.
Hand, other hand, one, two,
Foot, other foot, one, two,
Head, nose, mouth, chin,
With white teeth inside my mouth.
Itās simple, but nice. Bless.
Roses are red
Voilets are blue
Chocolatemouses ma takes it up the arse.
Not my best poem ever but itāll do.
I once had a cat
I kicked it in the nuts
That was that
He claims to be from Tipp but pulls it off badly.
His yearning for attention makes the board
look on him sadly.
Itās Brimmer Bradley.
He tried to paint Maroon and white as the baddie.
But maroon fucked the poor cunt
Like he had a fanny.
Itās Brimmer Bradley.
His wife has aids after being raped by a tranny.
While His kids are retarded both physically
And mentally.
Itās Brimmer Bradley.
Almost daily he spouts a shit filled melody.
And just like his kids,
Itās easy to see he is a handy.
Itās Brimmer Bradley.
Tipp tipp tipp,
Fell off a cliff
Despite the goals
We gave them as a gift.
Wonderful & heartfelt 
Waiting
Tis half an hour before the start, we are waiting patiently
From North and South and East and West the Semis for to see
And in among the gathered crowd four men they wait as well
And each would have his own particular story for to tell
My name is Padraic Kelly and Iām getting on in years
And Iāve followed Galway hurling with heartbreak and with tears
Oāer a span of fifty seasons, and I can call to mind
Great Galway teams that ended just a point or two behind
And I waited till the eighties to see the dreams come true
And in the spell of those ten years some wondrous times I knew
Iāll see another victory for the men who wear maroon.
They call me Paddy Kelly from the fields around Killane
And I waited for the fifties as a boy and growing man,
And then bold Wexford hit the scene and set the hills alight
And victory was ours at last in the great All-Ireland fight.
Then once in ā68 we won and then the famine years,
And I waited since through tough defeats to hear the Wexford cheers.
āTis a different kind of waiting now and thereās hunger in my soul
To see another victory for the Purple and the Gold
Iām known as Paudie Kelly, three miles from Patrickswell
And like the man before me, Iāve a similar tale to tell.
For three and thirty summers Iāve waited for to see
The Limerick Laurels raised on high by Grimes and company
Then the waiting game again came back for twenty years or more
And I waited six short minutes in nineteen ninety four
āUnfinished businessā is the cry of Cary and his team
And two more games of hurling could fulfil the winning dream.
āTis Patsy Kelly speaking from the glens around Glenarm
And I can tell you other three that waiting is no harm.
For my kindred all before me and myself and all my kin
Have waited for a hundred years to see an Antrim win.
And only twice in all that span ā ā43 and ā89
Were Antrim there on Final Day and each time defeat was mine.
But we are good at waiting ā itās the patience of the heart,
If we have to wait forever weāll year by year take part.
And the rest of Ireland waited to see what would betide
As the clash of ash was heard so sweet along the Liffeyside.
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead becauseā
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
Thatās clear enough; although
He thought heād 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand likeājust as Iā
Was out of workāhad sold his trapsā
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
Youād treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.
Dedicated to fran and piles.
Hardy. Reminds me of Sylvie. Legend.
What the fuck is going on here?
Throw up a poem or fuck off. Must be ethereal.
Link?
The hurling final is around the corner,
And stupid cunts are writing poems.
They better go back to hurling talk,
Or Iāll go burn down their homes. Cunts.
Was in the paper version today
Hope we wont be odeing yo another bloody Sunday in 9 days
@maroonandwhite @balbec
Is this the one? It sure as shit gave me the gawks reading it today. What a cunt.
Yep thats it. Big gomey head on him in the picture as well.
Christ that is drivel, this cunt sounds like hed be a willing contributor from the crowd on up for the match. Great anecdote though. Meaghar dragged his hurl before the game. Played well in it.
The only person I know that likes his drivel is from KK. Today was a lesson in why. Donāt get me wrong, Iām all for a bit of culture (see poetry likes above), but this scour is borderline offensive. If they had a picture of him giving Shefflin a dutch rudder I probably wouldnāt have been surprised.
Galway I hope bit kk by 5