Tom: Em
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Eighteen sixty nine being the date anf the year,
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Those Waterloo sportsmen and more did appear,
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For to gain the great prizes and bear them awa',
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Never counting on Ireland and Master McGrath.
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On the twelfth of November, that day of renown,
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McGrath and his keeper they left Lurgan town,
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A gale in the Channel, it soon drove them o'er,
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On the thirteenth they landed on England's fair shore.
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Oh well when they arrived there in big London Town,
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Those great English sportsmen all gathered around,
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And one of those gentlemen standing nearby
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said, 'Is that the great dog you call Master McGrath?'
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Oh well one of the gentlemen standing around,
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Says, 'I don't care a damn for your Irish greyhound!'
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And another he sneered with a scornful 'Ha! Ha!
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We'll soon humble the pride of your Master McGrath.'
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Then Lord Lurgan came forward and said, 'Gentlemen,
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If there's any amongst you has money to spend.
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For your grand English nobles I don't care a straw,
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Here's five thousand to one upon Master McGrath.'
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Oh, McGrath he looked up and he wagged his old tail.
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Informing his lordship, 'Sure I know what you mane,
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Don't fear, noble Brownlow, don't fear them agra,
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We'll soon tarnish their laurels', says Master McGrath.
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Oh well Rose stood uncovered, the great English pride,
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Her master and keeper were close by her side;
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They let them away and the crowd cried, 'Hurrah!'
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For the pride of all England and Master McGrath.
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Oh well Rose and the Master they both ran along.
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'I wonder', says Rose, 'what took you from your home.
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You should have stayed there in your Irish domain,
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And not come to gain laurels on Albion's plain.'
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'Well, I know', says the Master, 'we have wild heather bogs
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but, bedad, in old Ireland there's good men and dogs.
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Lead on, bold Britannia, give none of your jaw,
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Stuff that up your nostrils', says Master McGrath.
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Well the hare she led on just as swift as the wind
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He was sometimes before her and sometimes behind,
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He jumped on her back and held up his ould paw -
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'Long live the Republic', says Master McGrath.
