Musings in Maoriland
The Saige O'Timaru
The Saige O'Timaru.
In anshint ages, whin Homer's pages
Gave all the stages o' the Saige o' Throy;
When false Queen Helen, wid bosom swellin',
In love, sure, fell in wid the Throjan boy;
The wars were gory, for death or glory,
So runs the story, they millions slew.
Be sure 'twas play, boys, unlike the fray, boys,
The other day, boys, at Timaru.
The grand directhers av the Orange Victhors,
(Ye've seen the picthers av King Billy's horse),
Addhressed the brith'in:—"We'll have a gith'rin,
An' bouldly march out, brave boys, in foorce,
Wid lovely sashes an' soords that flashes,
We'll cut fine dashes in full review;
We'll have an airin' wid banners rarin',
All dangers darin' through Timaru."
Och, blur-an-ouns, boys, it wint the rounds, boys,
Wid shouts an' bounds, boys, aitch hayro green,
From glin an' nook, a-round be Timuka
Prepared to march to the battle scene;
Aitch Mick or Pat, he brought stick or bat he
Got a Waimate—yer sowls, huroo! —
Then marchin' proudly, an' yellin' loudly,
The boys assimbled in Timaru.
The grand paradins, an' fine procaidins
Av the Orange hayros was the battle sign;
No word they utthered, but King Billy flutthered
On yallow banners along the line.
Prepared for slaughther, they played "Boyne Wather,"
Och, mailie-muther an' pillill-u-u,
Kings James's throops, boys, wid yells an' whoops, boys,
Rushed up in groups, boys, at Timaru.
They formed a square, boys, in front an' rair, boys,
Begog, 'twas quare, boys, to see thim stand;
An' one bould head-man, wid hair so red, man,
Got up an' sed, man, unto his band:
"Look here, be jabers, me dacint naybors,
Ther soords an' sabers will niver do,
It's no use talkin' we'll stop their walkin',
Ther colour-hawkin' through Timaru.
A bould Cromwellan, of powdher smellin'
With fury swellin', dhrew forth his blade,
An' swore he'd skiver the "Papish" Liver
That daar'd to stop him on his grand parade;
A black Sir Knight, boys, prepared to fight, boys,
'Gainst green an' white, boys, for red an' blue,
He'd stand alone, boys, an' guard the throne, boys,
So bould, mavrone, boys, at Timaru.
The Peeler squadhron (they're always botherin')
Wid rayinforcements came on the ground;
Inspecthor Pindher, that bould defindher,
Look'd mighty tierce, boys, as he gallop'd round.
Ses he:—"Be quiet, don't raise a riot,
For I defy ye to mischief brew;
Don't rise our ire, or we'll have to fire,
So plaise retire from Timaru.
The divil a harm he done to the army,
King James's foorces began to dodge;
King William's laygion, wid the battle raygin'
Inthrinched their squadhrons beyant the lodge;
The foorces sundhered, an' the cannons tundhered,
An' the people wondherred, as the bullets flew,
In Imaginashun an' disperashun,
For ricrayashun at Timaru.
Och the wounds an' bruises, me gintle muses,
Bedad refuses for to indite;
The deeds so famous, done for King Shamus,
An' how his army won in the fight;
They're crowned wid glory in fame's bright story,
The kilt an' wounded an' the slain an" slew,
Will live for ages in histh'ry's pages,
Whilst battle rages at Timaru.