Beautiful but unloved

A cold north wind blows through the stands
from Cork to Derry to Inchicore
as a rustic turnstile idly swings
a cacophonous sound is made but unheard
the echoe accentuating distance

So far it is from cheering crowds
far from all those halcyon days
far from the carnival terrace chant
far from names like Hayle, Byrne and Coyle
yet the ember of our game still glows

The tribal pride of towns grow small
yet those who stay, forever proud
they hoist their colours as fans so true
like Templars shield a sacred grail
such idle monologues deter them not

The champagne shepherds betrayed them so
avarice guides the virtue less 
Delaney's silver weighed in shame
their abandoned child wanders still
beautiful but unloved.