A Broadside: No. 10 Third Year
Title
A Broadside: No. 10 Third Year
Subject
Ireland
Dun Emer Press
Cuala Press
A Broadside
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival
Description
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [3] has caption: "HOBBY HORSES". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.
Creator
E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Publisher
Cuala Press
Date
March, 1911
Text
JOHN MORRISSEY AND THE RUSSIAN SAILOR
Attend, ye sons of Erin's Isle, your attention now I crave,
Till I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave;
Concerning this great fight took place all on the other day
Between a Russian sailor and a gallant Morrissey.
In Teredelphiago we go in, in South America,
The Russian challenged Morrissey, and this to him did say;
'I hear you are an Irishman, whereon the belt I see,
What do you think of your consent to have a round with me?'
To fight upon the tenth of March those heroes did agree,
And thousands came from Ireland this champion fight to see;
The Russians and the Yankees their hearts were filled with glee,
For sure that their bully boy would kill John Morrissey.
Those heroes stepped into the ring, most gallant to be seen,
When Morrissey clapped on the belt, bound round with shamrock green;
For sixty thousand dollars, as you can plainly see,
That was to be the champion's prize who'd gain the victory.
They kissed, shook hands, walked round the ring, commencing with the fight,
Which filled each Irish heart that day for to behold the sight;
The Russian, then, he flew at him, when coming to the ground;
From that up to the second round John Morrissey went down.
Four minutes and a half he lay before that he could rise,
The cry went all round the ring, 'He is dead!' was all their cry;
But Morrissey arose again, and coming from the ground,
From that up to the eleventh round the Russian he went down.
The Irish offered four to one that day upon the grass,
No sooner said than taken up when down the showers of cash.
They parried away without delay up to the thirtieth round,
When Morrissey gave him a blow that brought him to the ground.
Up till the thirty-seventh round it was fall for fall about,
That made those foreign tyrants to have a sharp look-out;
The Russian called his seconds to give him a glass of wine,
Our Irish hero smiled and said: 'The battle is surely mine.'
Our hero conquered Thompson, and the Yankee clipper too,
The Melisia boy and shepherd he nobly did subdue;
And to our brave Tipperary boy the Russian was forced to yield -
John Morrissey, like Donnelly, he'd die or gain the field.
The cheers of our brave Irish boys did grieve their hearts full sore,
Their bully, eighteen stone three pounds, his height full six feet four.
They went into St. Patrick's land and made the taverns roar,
They sung the praise of Morrissey who came from Templemore.
Come let us dance and sing
While Barbados bells do ring:
Quashie scrapes the fiddle string
And Venus plays the lute.
Attend, ye sons of Erin's Isle, your attention now I crave,
Till I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave;
Concerning this great fight took place all on the other day
Between a Russian sailor and a gallant Morrissey.
In Teredelphiago we go in, in South America,
The Russian challenged Morrissey, and this to him did say;
'I hear you are an Irishman, whereon the belt I see,
What do you think of your consent to have a round with me?'
To fight upon the tenth of March those heroes did agree,
And thousands came from Ireland this champion fight to see;
The Russians and the Yankees their hearts were filled with glee,
For sure that their bully boy would kill John Morrissey.
Those heroes stepped into the ring, most gallant to be seen,
When Morrissey clapped on the belt, bound round with shamrock green;
For sixty thousand dollars, as you can plainly see,
That was to be the champion's prize who'd gain the victory.
They kissed, shook hands, walked round the ring, commencing with the fight,
Which filled each Irish heart that day for to behold the sight;
The Russian, then, he flew at him, when coming to the ground;
From that up to the second round John Morrissey went down.
Four minutes and a half he lay before that he could rise,
The cry went all round the ring, 'He is dead!' was all their cry;
But Morrissey arose again, and coming from the ground,
From that up to the eleventh round the Russian he went down.
The Irish offered four to one that day upon the grass,
No sooner said than taken up when down the showers of cash.
They parried away without delay up to the thirtieth round,
When Morrissey gave him a blow that brought him to the ground.
Up till the thirty-seventh round it was fall for fall about,
That made those foreign tyrants to have a sharp look-out;
The Russian called his seconds to give him a glass of wine,
Our Irish hero smiled and said: 'The battle is surely mine.'
Our hero conquered Thompson, and the Yankee clipper too,
The Melisia boy and shepherd he nobly did subdue;
And to our brave Tipperary boy the Russian was forced to yield -
John Morrissey, like Donnelly, he'd die or gain the field.
The cheers of our brave Irish boys did grieve their hearts full sore,
Their bully, eighteen stone three pounds, his height full six feet four.
They went into St. Patrick's land and made the taverns roar,
They sung the praise of Morrissey who came from Templemore.
Come let us dance and sing
While Barbados bells do ring:
Quashie scrapes the fiddle string
And Venus plays the lute.
Original Format
Broadside
Files
Collection
Citation
E. C. Yeats and Jack B. Yeats, “A Broadside: No. 10 Third Year,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed November 21, 2024, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1380.