THE CURRAGHMORE HOUNDS. 87 



Next on my list's a little man, 



His name is Tommy Lalor, 

 And on his little head he wears 



A hat, to make him taller. 



But if he's small, his heart is great, 



He never is so happy 

 As when, by doing all he can, 



He beats the bold Mulcahy. 



Mulcahy tries by might and main 



To beat the gallant Tom, 

 And if he only does succeed 



He roars and rides along. 



A grudge he owes me since last year, * 



And if it is his luck 

 He swears he'll eat me, and I'm sure 



His mouth is large enough. 



Now mark the man's good-humoured face, 



Who with commanding frown 

 Replies to fellows' " How do you do ?'* 



With " Please, sir, half-a-crown." 



He rides a mare, her colour's bay, 



Her temper's very hot, 

 He blesses her, and never swears. 



And his name is Medlycott. 



George Malcomson next comes in sight, 



A portly man is he, 

 Though heavy his stern, his heart is light 



As ever a man's can be. 



Congy Fleming on " Magpie " sits 



In a very seedy coat, 

 Ah ! he's the lad to drain a flask, 



Or tell^a pleasant joke. 



But who's the hammerer on the road .'* 



I do not know from Adam, 

 By the way he rides, I'm sure he is 



Some relative of Macadam. 



Ah ! now I see, it is John Walshe, 



To tell you's only fair, 

 You need not fear him any more, 



He's taken to hunt the hare. 



* William Mulcahy'e mare died after the run of the 28th January, 1862. 



