T’was Christmas eve in Lurgan, And the snow was soft and deep.
The pubs had shut an hour ago, And the drunks were fast asleep
But Clann Eireann’s lights were still aglow. They were burning the midnight oil
The committee’s brows were furrowed. By the burden of their toil.
If de ja vu should happen. And Armagh got there again,
Who would get a ticket. From the Mafiosa Men?
The meeting was called to order. And each man climbed his chair
With hand on heart and eyes shut tight. They said the Clann Eireann prayer.
We’re the Mafiosa. We’re the Lake street mob.
We stand alone like Don Corleone. To do the Italian job.
We don’t care what our members think. We don’t care what they say.
The motto we back, is ‘to hell with Jack’. As long as we’re OK.
Every man sat down again. Except big Roy Mc Sherry
Now Roy was a man of the world you know.
Though the furthest he’d been was Kerry.
Fellow masons as secretary. To our beloved club and team.
The problem is one of releasing the milk. While still retaining the cream.
So forget about this Christmas. And look towards September.
How do we pocket the bulk of tickets. And still please every member?
First to speak was Des Lavery. Who never minces words.
I’ll buy all the premium tickets. The rest are just for kurds.
Dr Sean was outraged. Now Des, for being so mean,
Your champagne will be extra chilled next year. When you stand on hill 16.
Next up was Kevin Creery. Who’s idea was just as sad.
Kevin as the whole world knows. Had just become a dad.
Divide the tickets as you like. So long as you leave a pile.
For all the people who come to my house. With presents for the child.
Jim Beatty rose and took the floor. But he was even dumber.
Then what do you expect from a man who forgets. He’s just a Lurgan plumber.
Plumbing supplies are prepared to handle. Every ticket that you’ve got.
We’ll give two away with cisterns. And a third if you buy the pot.
Jimmy Lavery’s back was up. His front was even worse.
But we cant repeat a word he said. For all he did was curse.
Things became more civil. When father Mc Partlan took the chair.
Surely he would divvy the tickets. In a way that was very fair.
Give half the tickets to St. Vincent de Paul. For the poor, the lost and weary,
Divide the rest among the priests. And a few for the legion of Mary.
The Lake street Mafiosa replied. To their chaplains charitable wishes.
Another idea like that Father Kieran. And you’ll be sleepin’ with the fishes.
Then in breezed Dessy Brady. Lads im sorry for being late.
I left my keys in the Woodville. And I had to climb the gate.
Now Dessy didn’t know the score. And as usual he was lost.
Comrades, whatever’s on the agenda. You must think about the cost.
Now I propose a motion. A ballot, a show of hands.
A picket, a strike, everyone out. One vote, one ticket, one man!!!
Master Mc Kavanagh took to his feet. I think we’ve heard enough.
The party season had reached it’s peak. And he was feeling pretty rough.
Kevin Brown began to laugh. At the motions being carried.
And when he thought of Declan and Dolores. He was glad he’d never married.
Now speaking as a bachelor. And the oldest swinger in town.
I say the tickets should only go. To the men who stand their round.
Danny Mc Kavanagh seconded that. Boys, I’d like to raise this jar.
To the men like Kevin who sponsor this club. With the money they spend at the bar.
And as for the tickets, my dear. This is what I think.
Your allocation should be in relation. To the amount you spend on drink.
Now fair play to Tommy Coleman. The big man at least had tact.
Boys, what about our members? The others thought he’d cracked.
No, hear me out and listen. Let’s give tickets to Clann Eireann’s stars.
That should account for less than two. And all the rest are ours.
While all of this was taking place. Mickey Mc Mahon stood at the door.
It was force of habit for the ladies man. Who was bouncer for infloor.
And even when the plea was made. Mickey, will you take your seat!!!
The carpet man just stood at the door. Like he does in William street.
Big reductions on carpets and rugs. 50% off all vinyl.
Cup of tea love, fancy a chat? Here’s a ticket for the final!!!
Now poor old Bazza Mc Conville. Was looking drawn and pale.
Word was out that he’d supplied a tout. With tickets from the Lurgan Mail.
Lads I know what you’re thinking. And I can tell you it isn’t true.
But if you want to enter our draw next year. I’ll see what I can do.
And as for the Clann Eireann tickets. As treasurer and B-Team boss.
I’d like to credit them to revenue. To improve our profit and loss.
Dr. Lenehen came in again. And issued a decree.
I’ll decide since I’m the boss. And I’ve got a Phd.
The room went quiet; they held their breath. To hear what Sean would say.
The clock struck 12, the snowflakes fell. The date was Christmas Day.
Forget about the priests. The builders, the plumbers and pickets.
There’s only one solution to the dividing of the tickets.
As a gesture of our gratitude. To all the people we love and adore.
We’ll donate our All-Ireland tickets. To the staff of Tannaghmore.
And all got down on bended knee. Those Mafiosa Men.
And to a man they all replied. Amen, Amen, Amen!!!
The Mafiosa Men was composed by Mark Mc Morrow and performed at the 2003 Tannaghmore School Christmas concert by the P7 pupils.