Classic Poem

Eighteen sixty-nine being the date and the year,
Those Waterloo sportsmen and more did appear
To gain the great prizes and bear them away,
They were counting on Ireland and Master McGrath.

On the twelfth of November, that day of renown,
McGrath and his keeper they left Lurgan town;
A gale in the channel, it soon drove them on,
On the thirteenth they landed on England's fair shore.

Oh, and when they arrived there in big London town,
Those great English sportsmen all gathered round;
And one of those gentlemen standing nearby
Said, "Is that the great dog you call Master McGrath?'

And one of those gentlemen standing around
Said, "I don't give a damn for your Irish greyhound.'
And another he sneered with a scornful "Ha ha,
We'll soon humble the pride of your Master McGrath.'

Lord Lurgan stood up and he said "Gentlemen,
Is there any amongst you with money to spend?
For your grand English nobles don't give a straw,
It's five thousand to one upon Master McGrath.'

Oh, McGrath he looked up and he waggled his tail,
Informing his lordship, "I know what you mean.
Don't fear, noble brown lord, don't fear him awa,
We'll soon tarnish their laurels,' said Master McGrath.

Oh, the Rose stood uncovered, that great English pride,
Her master and keeper were close by her side.
They led them away and the crowd cried hoorah,
For the pride of old England and Master McGrath.

Oh, the Rose and the Master they both ran along.
"Oh I wonder,' said Rose, "What brought you from your home?
You should have stayed there in your Irish domain,
Not come to gain laurels on Albion's plain.'

"Well I know,' said the Master, "we're wild at the bogs,
But by God in Ireland we're good men and dogs.
Lead on, bold Britannia, give no more of your jaw,
Stuff that up your nostrils,' said Master McGrath.

Well, the hare she led on just as fast as the wind,
He was sometimes before her, and sometimes behind.
He jumped on her back and held up his old paw.
"Long live the Republic,' said Master McGrath.