An actuary who likes budget designer sports watches.
A panel member of a team formerly managed by Tom Cribben who’s now in Australia and crippled with injury.
Mick Barry
I think he was the subject of the song “And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda”.
When I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
From Stradbally’s green basin to Portlaoise clubs full of craic
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in 1999 my county said: Son,
It’s time to stop rambling, there’s work to be done
So they gave me some Laois kit and they made me run
And they sent me away to O’Moore
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the train pulled away from Portlaoise
And amidst all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We made off for Dubbalin 3
I well remember that terrible day
When our blood stained the pitch and the showers
And how in that hell that they call Tullamore
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Westmeath was ready, he primed himself well
He rained us with long balls, and he laughed as we fell
And in five minutes flat, we were all blown to hell
He nearly blew us back home to Portlaois-eh
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
And we buried ours and Westmeath buried theirs
Then it started all over again
Oh those that were training just tried to survive
In that mad world of burnout and tiredness
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Dublin jack knocked me arse over tit
And when I awoke in my hospital bed
And saw what he had done, Christ, I wished I was dead
I never knew there were worse things than dying
Oh no more I’ll go running for Cribben
All around green pitches far and near
For to beat Dublin dregs, a man needs both legs
No more running for Cribben for me
They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they shipped us away to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind and insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Croker
And when the plane landed far off in Sydney
I looked at the place where me legs used to be
And thank Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the Band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared
And they turned all their faces away
Now every July I sit in a pub
And I watch the parade on the big screen
I see my old team mates, how proudly they watch
Reliving their dreams of past glories
I see the old men all tired, stiff and worn
Those weary old heroes of a forgotten draw
And the Dubs in their jerseys ask “What are they watching for?”
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
As the old men still live every ball
But year after year, their numbers get fewer
Someday, no one will watch there at all
Running for Cribben, running for Cribben
Who’ll come a running for Cribben with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they run laps so long
So who’ll come a running for Cribben with me?
JHC.
[QUOTE=“Sidney, post: 1064432, member: 183”]When I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
From Stradbally’s green basin to Portlaoise clubs full of craic
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in 1999 my county said: Son,
It’s time to stop rambling, there’s work to be done
So they gave me some Laois kit and they made me run
And they sent me away to O’Moore
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the train pulled away from Portlaoise
And amidst all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We made off for Dubbalin 3
I well remember that terrible day
When our blood stained the pitch and the showers
And how in that hell that they call Tullamore
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Westmeath was ready, he primed himself well
He rained us with long balls, and he laughed as we fell
And in five minutes flat, we were all blown to hell
He nearly blew us back home to Portlaois-eh
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
And we buried ours and Westmeath buried theirs
Then it started all over again
Oh those that were training just tried to survive
In that mad world of burnout and tiredness
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Dublin jack knocked me arse over tit
And when I awoke in my hospital bed
And saw what he had done, Christ, I wished I was dead
I never knew there were worse things than dying
Oh no more I’ll go running for Cribben
All around green pitches far and near
For to beat Dublin dregs, a man needs both legs
No more running for Cribben for me
They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they shipped us away to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind and insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Croker
And when the plane landed far off in Sydney
I looked at the place where me legs used to be
And thank Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the Band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared
And they turned all their faces away
Now every July I sit in a pub
And I watch the parade on the big screen
I see my old team mates, how proudly they watch
Reliving their dreams of past glories
I see the old men all tired, stiff and worn
Those weary old heroes of a forgotten draw
And the Dubs in their jerseys ask “What are they watching for?”
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
As the old men still live every ball
But year after year, their numbers get fewer
Someday, no one will watch there at all
Running for Cribben, running for Cribben
Who’ll come a running for Cribben with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they run laps so long
So who’ll come a running for Cribben with me?[/QUOTE]
I’ll never forget that fucking day in Tullamore as long as I live 
[QUOTE=“Fagan ODowd, post: 1064415, member: 706”]Mick Barry[/QUOTE]he didn’t know him that well
Friends who, like himself, respond poorly to wheat products.
A 9 week old German Shepherd.
not sure if @caoimhaoin knows Alan thru that spineless queer Kevin Mul from Waterfall but either way Alan will be taking on Liverpool for AFC Wimbledon on Monday night… best of luck to the Ballinora man from all the forum
People who are talking of trading up & are openly materialistic.
A young lad, who he since became great friends with in later years, who said something about him having the wrong parents when they were in 1st class. Our hero punched him in the mouth in front of most of their class. He then ran off crying to the teacher.
A set of 18 year old twins
Old school Australian women.
A van driver for a butchers who’s able to support his family on a single income. Kev sounds unsure how he’s able to do it.
One of these days, someone will compile all these people into a singular post. Not even I have that much time on my hands, but by God that person will be an internet giant when they do it.
Many women who told him they didn’t want to have kids but now have kids.
The lying cunts.
:rolleyes: