EmDEm
Eighteen sixty nine being the date anf the year,
GEmDEm
Those Waterloo sportsmen and more did appear,
GEmDEm
For to gain the great prizes and bear them awaʼ,
EmDEm
Never 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 oʼer,
On the thirteenth they landed on Englandʼs fair shore.
Oh well when they arrived there in big London Town,
Those great English sportsmen all gathered around,
And one of those gentlemen standing nearby
said, ʼIs that the great dog you call Master McGrath?ʼ
Oh well one of the gentlemen standing around,
Says, ʼI donʼt care a damn for your Irish greyhound!ʼ
And another he sneered with a scornful ʼHa! Ha!
Weʼll soon humble the pride of your Master McGrath.ʼ
Then Lord Lurgan came forward and said, ʼGentlemen,
If thereʼs any amongst you has money to spend.
For your grand English nobles I donʼt care a straw,
Hereʼs five thousand to one upon Master McGrath.ʼ
Oh, McGrath he looked up and he wagged his old tail.
Informing his lordship, ʼSure I know what you mane,
Donʼt fear, noble Brownlow, donʼt fear them agra,
Weʼll soon tarnish their laurelsʼ, says Master McGrath.
Oh well Rose stood uncovered, the great English pride,
Her master and keeper were close by her side;
They let them away and the crowd cried, ʼHurrah!ʼ
For the pride of all England and Master McGrath.
Oh well Rose and the Master they both ran along.
ʼI wonderʼ, says Rose, ʼwhat took you from your home.
You should have stayed there in your Irish domain,
And not come to gain laurels on Albionʼs plain.ʼ
ʼWell, I knowʼ, says the Master, ʼwe have wild heather bogs
but, bedad, in old Ireland thereʼs good men and dogs.
Lead on, bold Britannia, give none of your jaw,
Stuff that up your nostrilsʼ, says Master McGrath.
Well the hare she led on just as swift as the wind
He was sometimes before her and sometimes behind,
He jumped on her back and held up his ould paw -
ʼLong live the Republicʼ, says Master McGrath.
