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Next day I cruised around fast
Derek took off to forge his own path
Mark made a fuss
About Den and a bus
And Tim gave them all a mud bath
Castlemaine’s not a town to call home
No wonder Jack Duggan did roam
Three pubs and a caff
They’re havin’ a laugh
Why include such a place in a poem?
Twenty-eight miles to Dingle beckoned
Not a challenge we thought for a second
10 miles flat to Inch
It’ll all be a cinch
For the brutal wind we had not really reckoned
For the pastilles we started to scrabble
As Tim’s routing began to unravel
Turn left here
The shortcut’s clear
Just a gate and a mountain of gravel
No torture for Mark, the old fox
Who had sauntered down to the docks
Diversion was criminal
But protests were minimal
Cause England were playing the Springboks
We wanted to see Dingle’s joys
A celebratory night for the boys
We found Paddy Mack’s
Rammed to the jacks
At Murphy’s we heard a great noise
Tinteán played with fervour and meaning
Rebel songs had the whole place reeling
The Grace Gifford song
Told of terrible wrong
Great music but uneasy feeling.
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