Different Words, Same Old Tune
Talking Balls Comments
Here we bring an exclusive from the first output of an exciting new group called The Pundits.
The boys on the sofa reckon if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Altogether now, One. . .two. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . four. . .
There once was a pundits’ troupe
A sofa-sittin folk group
They sang of traditional battles
And the football of our land
They were long on controversiality
Folks thought they would go far
But interprovincial rivalry
Led to their downfall
Well, the one on the right was up the left
And the one in the middle talked shite
And the one on the left spoke in riddles
And the guy in the rear. . . was a Derryman
This half-time abomination
Toured the entire nation
Singing about traditional football
And the overuse of the hand
They talked balls with great virtuosity
And soon they were the rage
But intercounty jealousy prevailed upon the stage
Well, the one on the right was up the left
And the one in the middle talked shite
And the one on the left spoke in riddles
And the guy in the rear. . . blew kisses
Well the credits had ascended
A hush fell on the crowd
As thousands there were tuned in
To view the legends take the hand
But they took their football seriously
And that night on the Sunday Game
As the audience watched incredulously
They had a free-for-all
Well, the one on the right was on his arse
And the one in the middle had him by the ear
And the one on the left got a broken arm
And the guy in the rear, said, “Oh dear”
Now this should be a lesson
If you plan to be a pundit
Don’t go mixin’ football with the folk songs of our land
Just work on passing and kicking
Do your handpass well
And if you have strong opinions, keep them to yoursel’
Now, the one on the right, writes a newspaper column
And the one in the middle is a fool
The one on the left’s on the wireless
And the guy in the rear. . . became a magistrate
