Café poets stealing a living from sad hacks

Before the Liam McCarthy Cup reached the Clare borders and the waiting tens of thousands of rejoicing supporters for the beginning of a continuing celebration, the hurtful truth is that my alleged friend and near neighbour Sean O’Callaghan had a song composed about the hurling triumph and was already singing it to loud acclaim.

I am not going to give free publicity to the son of a bitch (who is also a Dub!), but it is necessary to give ye a bare taste of his composition:

The bonfires are still