The only time (when this was written) any Irish team beat the All Blacks was in 1978 when a very average Munster team beat one of the greatest All Black teams of all time - works as a recitation too!
lyrics
It was greater than creation, the eighth wonder of the world,
More thrilling than the bungy, sex, drugs or rock and roll.
It was holier than statues, moving bogs or virgin’s tears,
Sure they should have made them all saints, beatified by peers.
They were stronger than Cú Chulainn, more cunning than Boru,
More epic than the pyramids or the Incas in Peru.
From Kruger’s down to Hennesy’s they talk about the day,
When Munster beat the All Blacks back in 1978.
You could have heard them shouting from Brandon to Fermoy,
As thousands rallied to the cause in ecstasy and joy.
Grown men were weeping and babies were renamed,
When Munster beat the All Blacks back in 1978.
On an autumn day at Thomond Park the people gathered round,
Sure you’d think all of Munster were gathered at the ground.
They quietly clapped the All Blacks as they came on so replete,
And cheered like mad for the Munster lads like rabid dogs on heat.
The All Blacks were the finest team that they’d ever known,
All thigh and rump and hairy chest, pure testosterone.
The Munster lads trained cuttin’ peat and drinking pints of stout,
You could see there was a mis-match of that there was no doubt.
Few stranger things have happened than on that fateful day,
When Jimmy Bowen picked up the bounce and ran without delay.
McKechnie couldn’t stop him and he passed it to a friend,
And Christy Cantilon, he ran, and scored at Mayorstone end.
When Tony Ward converted, well the crowd were set on fire,
The lads were sucking diesel, the flames were getting higher.
A penalty and then a goal, the red shirts battled on,
The All Blacks didn’t score a point the day that Munster won.
It was history in the making and we’ll never see again,
A day when all of Munster cheered, both ladies and the men.
To see again the lads in red like angels from the ark,
Beat the gallant All Blacks down at Thomond Park.
To the All Blacks I suppose, it was a small defeat,
But in Munster it was legend, total and complete.
And now when babies go to sleep the stories they are told,
Are Finn MacCumhall and Gráinne Mhaol, Cantilon and Ward.
Bob Bickerton is based in Nelson, New Zealand and has had a long career as a music manager, sound engineer and performing
artist.
His earlier albums specialised in traditional and self-penned Celtic music, but in more recent times he has collaborated with other artists as a kaiwhakatangitangi or practitioner of taonga pūoro, the traditional instruments of Māori....more
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