THE ST. PATRICK'S MARATHON

Observer, Volume XXIX, Issue 27, 20 March 1909, Page 23

THE ST. PATRICK'S MARATHON

A TRUE TALE OF TAKAPUNA

(After — Miles anal Miles After. — Sir Walter Scott)

The way was long, the dust was high, For Takapuna's roads, were dry. And tho' it rained a bally' week, 'Twould make no diff'renoe, so to speak. But, sure, bejabers ! What of that ?— You can't dismay a trueborn Pat. And in a might crowd they came To seek a Marathonian fame In costumes that were somewhat brief. With stalwart calves beyond belief. The ladies gazed with pride upon The bhoys who in the Marathon Had sworn to show a prowess great, And tempt the fickle goddess Fate. In motor cars and buggies too The people followed, for they knew That glorious deeds in plenty they Would see on that St. Patrick's Day.

Among the starters you could find (If you, perchance, were so inclined) Of Auckland's Irishmen the best, "Who'd come that day with glee to test Their running powers. They'd made a vow That they would show the world just how Ould Oirelajid still could hold her own In trials of sinew and of bone. First, mighty Tim — a stalwart man — Fit scion of the O'Connor Clan. And Maurice — beauteous to the view — In running costume sweet and new, The cynosure of ev'ry eye, So spick and span, and bright and spry. And Paddy Doran, dressed in green, With just a dhrop of swa'te pothen To rouse his powers toward the end — He shared it with his worthy friend Hugh M'llhone, whose running pants His charms were certain to enhance, Altho' he caused some fearful shocks By reason of his orange socks. Pat Nerheny came in glorious style, His costume was a beauteous smile — Of oourse some other things he wore, But all things faded out before The lustre of that smile so wide That is the Lib. -Labs' greatest pride. Jack Patterson was there in strength, And he was also there in length. His long tail coat he'd cast away, And sworn that on St. Patrick's Day running costume he would don And win, bedad ! that Marathon. Mick Walsh aspired to be a racer And brought the faithful Spot as pacer. I grieve to say that I cannot Belaud that quadruped called Spot. For at Jack Patterson he flew, And, ere a person could count two, He seized Jack's leg with eager fang, And Jack's pneumatic calf went bang. The ambulance came swiftly up, While Jack made mincemeat of that _„ P U PPierce Lanigan, the heavyweight, Pronounced the sight " a perfect trate," And much diplomacy it took To stop a speedy Donnybrook. McHugh was there, and so, I ween, Among the Macs was Jim McKean. "While from the stalwart Foley clan Came Foley Tom and Foley Dan. Upon the scene gay leather Pat Approached in new Parisian hat, The parrot came to cheer him on, And see him win i-nat Marathon. Oh, Michael Sheahan, great Jaipee, Came out as fast as he could gee. Spectacularly handsome too, With physog scrumtious to the view. The Bishop— l mean great Magee — Was also there to show that he At running was a perfect star, Just as at things oracular. Oh, Father Holhrook, you must know's A champion judge of baby shows, And so, of course, he takes the bun At clearing out with speedy run. So out he came with practised feet Among the others to compete. And Adolph Kohn, in style sublime, Attended too, to take the time. The "istol banged — away they went, And to describe this great event, And make the glorious tale completer, Permit me now to change the metre. • • ■ Half a league ! half a league ! Half a -league onward I O'er Takapuna's roads wildly they wandered.

What tho' Bob Farrell hove Oranges from his grove At their heads — on they rove, On, on they thundered ! Dust to the right of them. Dust to the left of them. Dust all around them Made them feel thirsty. Maxirice O'Connor swore He would have some one's gore Ne'er felt so dry before ! Fearfully curst he ! Up the hills, down the dales, O'er the roads scooting, Bikes fast pursuing them, motor horns hooting. What tho' the dust rose high ,— They'd sworn to do or die, And all the world defy, Forward they're shooting. All the crowd yelled aloud, Race growing thinner, Many were busily picking the winner. itunners were heard to say, As they went on th-eir way, That they wished much that they Had had less dinner. HaJf-a-mile, half-a-mile, Half-a-mile further, (Words are extremely scarce rhyming with "further.") ** Down fell Hugh M'llhone, Reeling completely blown, Heaving a sigh and groan, Mutt' ring : "Oh, murther !" On they came ! on they came ! On they came flying ! Dust, wind, and metal, too, gamely defying. But Paddy Doran fell, With a most fearful yell. Said he felt far from well Feared he was dying. Tomcats barked ! puppies mewed ! Lightning loud thundered. And at that glorious race all the world wondered. On Father Holbrook sped ; And in that race he led. Ne'er known to lose hi& head — He never blundered. Hills were steep ! hills were steep ! Dust clouds were choking. Mick Walsh's countenance fiercely was smoking. Tripped over Spot the dog. Came to ground like a log ; Like an expiring frog. Lay feebly croaking. Up the straight ! u» the straight ! (Might have been straighter) Runners felt beastly tired — steps were sedater. Suddenly Father Pat Found he had lost his hat ; Said : "I must wait for that. I'll follow later." Dow7i they fell ! down they fell ! One by one falling. Tho' the crowd cheered them on, noisily bawling. Tim and the Foleys too, Jim McKean — big McHugh. I don't mind telling you It was appalling. Past the .post ! past the post ! See some one flashing. "Pis Father Holbrook who past it is dashing. Baby shows mayn't be fun, But they annex the bun To teach men how to run, To dodge mothers' bashing. Give a cheer ! give a cheer ! Sound forth their glory. Cheer, too, the vanquished ones — winded and gory. When shall their glory fade ? Oh, the bold charge they made ! So, for the next decade Keep green the story .