A football match last Saturday I went to see,
To have some fun was exactly what I meant, you see;
So off I goes like a sporting man so dutiful,
To see this game, which I reckined would be beautiful.
I just got there as the referee the whistle blew,
The game began and begorra! 'twas a tussle too.
The Swifts got the ball and took to their gallopers,
And scored 'first goal' against the Macalvenny Wallopers.

At this result there was a bit of wrangling,
The Wallopers swore the Swifts deserved a mangling.
They claimed 'off side' and the referee, big Stevenson,
Disallowed the goal, just to make the game an even one.
The Swifts gave way and then to work they flew again.
They captured the ball and swore they'd put it through again,
One of them jumped on the Wallopers' custodian,
And he lost more teeth than there keys in a melodian.
The Swifts' back play and splendid power of tackling,
Set their supporters a-crowing and a-cackling.
'Off side, 'on side', every side and suicide,
Before half-time they were only playing two a side.

When half-time came and the result was wired and cabled, sure,
No goals each and a dozen men disabled, sure.
Refreshments for them there were none in the Pavilion, so
They went to the pub, kept by old John McGillian, oh!
But when they got there a stop was put to any peace,
'Twas found that amongst them they hadn't got a penny piece.
'We must have a drink!' said big John Garrity,
'Supposing we drink what we drew today for charity.'

This was agreed without any more palavering;
They paid for the full of every pot the tavern in.
Every member did his stomach cram,
Then to the spectators they sent a telegram,
Telling them themselves to go and smother,
As the football was burst and they couldn't buy another.
To go for the umpires each one was clamouring;
They gave them what I call a very healthy hammering.
The poor referee in his shoes was trembling,
To see half a dozen around him assembling.
He tried to escape but they shook him like a water-mouse,
Closed both his eyes and left his face like a slaughter-house.
Pitchers and jugs in the heat of their ferocity,
Flew through the room with a lightning velocity.
The boss of the pub from the place quickly hunted them,
Then in the street another thing confronted them:

A band of policemen seized this gang of rioters,
And now they're teasing oakum for the prison-house proprietors.