Ode to a county

Don't get me wrong
this ain't a song
although I wish it were,
a thing of beauty
something so manly
for him or for her.
My lifelong fashion 
a sporting passion
the game of hurling,
for I've long been sold
on purple and gold
the flag unfurling.
Those sticks of ash
with fury clash
when ball is thrown,
that mighty catch
highlight of the match
when whistle blown.
Unbridled joy
in man and boy
that pride of place,
the buzz of match day
in memory will stay
joy in every face.
Excuses to the boss
in every win and loss
each Monday morning,
for I am addicted
eternally afflicted
despite the warning.
Each summer it falls
 when my county calls
unleash the roar,
joy I can't explain
in sunshine and rain
just watch my heart soar.