OTAGO v. WELLINGTON, 1885.

Otago Witness, Issue 1764, 12 September 1885, Page 22

OTAGO v. WELLINGTON, 1885.

By Quarter-back.

Far round the spacious circle, And crowded in the stand, Twelve thousand eyes were turned to view Otago's chosen band. For, spite of civic tyrant rule, The people thronged, I ween, And old. and young, were there to see That struggle on the green. Two gallant bauds of forwards Were ranged across the ground ; While close behind, on cither side, The trusty backs were found. The Empire City's men looked black, Otago's men looked blue — Twas not because they feared to loso That vf&B their Union's hue.

And as they passed the sphere about To the hour ot three, Twice fifteen hearts 'neath jerseyed breasts Were bounding higli and free ; And fair mnids gazed h-om out the crowd To urge theii- heroes on, And thought mayhap by women's looks Such battles oifc werewtfii. The ball was. placed, the forwards filed In line out o'er the ground, While silence brooding o'er the scene Hushed eacli discordant sound : But soon as in the fray they closed, And strained their sburdy thews Near every man and every boy Was shouting " Go it, Blues !" And Murray's men— right well they fought The northern lines to break — Otago's honour well they knew Was that, day placed at stake : So straight they drove the ball along By stubborn forward play. Till soon it seemed the southron men Were bound to win the day. Then straight from out a scrummage The ball was darted quick. And o'er the bar itboon was sent 13y one decisive kick ; For. liigh and clear the leather flew, And straight 'tetin pither poh'i And loud and long a shout arose, For Uee had kicked a goal. The northern men then rallied— Kin, Kafta was their shout, But 'spite the Maori warrior's cry Their lives were put to rout ; And louder plaudits 'scaped the crowd While louder cheers went forth, For the gallant Blues, that day had low'r'd, The banner ot the north. And oft in after years I ween, When our poor heads are grey, Our children's children then will hear How well we won the day ; And how our sturdy foenien strove In vain their lines to clear, And beaten, left the field, like men. Who prize the leather sphere. The above lines, by my esteemed literary friend " Quarter-back," author of " The Bounding Sphere,"' " The Old Game," &c, &c, &c, will no doubt prove a solatium to our footballers after their defeat by Canterbury. My friend tells me that he had great difficulty with the last stanza. For two whole nights he sat up long past the witching hour, with a bowl of cold tea before him and a wet towel wrapped round his head, jingling rhymes together. It was only after a great mental struggle on the evening of the third day that he hit on the above happy termination. The experiences of my friend, together with his haggard look after the great iabour of composing the above verses, set me a-thinking, and, grasping my pen, I dashed off the following lines by way of a concluding stanza. Strange to say they did not meet with the acceptance of my friend. However, here they are — my readers can judge for themselves : — When the good-wife burns the beefsteak, And lills the house with gloom ; Or dusts her husband's Sunday coat With the bald-headed end'of a broom ; And youngbters squall around his knee — I'll befc you two to one He'll think of happier days gone by And the match with Wellington.