Subject: Lyr Add: SKEW BALL
From:
Bruce O.
Date: 24 Dec 98 - 04:13 PM
Is this what you are looking for? From 'The Vocal Library', London, 1818. The last verse is obviously a bit corrupt.
SKEW BALL
Come, gentlemen sportsmen, I pray, listen all,
I will sing you a song in praise of Skew Ball;
And how he came over, you shall understand,
It was squire Mervin, the pearl of this land.
And of his late action, as you've heard before,
He was lately challang'd by one Sir Ralph Gore,
For five hundred pounds, on the plains of Kildare,
To run with Miss Sportly, that famous grey mare.
Skew Ball then hearing the wager was laid,
Unto his kind master said - Don't be afraid;
For if on my side you thousands lay would,
I would rig on your castle a fine mass of gold!
The day being come, and the cattle walk'd forth,
The people came flocking from East, South and North,
For to view all the sports, as I do declare,
And venture their money all on the grey mare. Squire Mervin then smiling, on to them did day,
Come, gentlemen, all that have money to lay;
And you that have hundreds I will lay you all,
For I'll venture thousands on famous Skew Ball.
Squire Mervin then smiling, unto them did say,
Come, gentlemen sportsmen. to morrow's the day,
Spurs, horses, and saddles and bridals prepare,
For you must away to the plains of Kildare.
The day being come, and the cattle walk'd out,
Squire Mervin order'd his rider to mount,
And all the spectators to clear the way,
The time being come not one moment delay.
The cattle being mounted away they did fly,
Skew Ball like an arrow pass'd Miss Sportly by;
The people went up to see them go round,
They said in their hearts they ne'er touch'd the ground.
But as they were running in the midst of the sport
Squire Mervin to his rider began his discourse; [Squire Mervin-> Skewball
O! loving kind rider, come tell unto me,
How far at the moment Miss Sportly's from me,
O! loving kind master, you bear a great style, [master->Skew Ball
The grey mare's behind you a long English mile,
If the saddle maintains me, I'll warrant you there,
You n'er shall be beat on the plains of Kildare.
But as they were running by the distant chair,
The gentlemen cry'd out - Skew Ball never fear,
Altho' in this country thou wasn't ne'er seen before,
Thou hast beaten Miss Sportly, and broke Sir Ralph Gore.
["Skewball", Laws, Q22. Two versions in DT. Song is Irish, but the only Irish traditional version with tune that I've seen is in Hugh Shields' 'Old Dublin Songs', 1988, where the text is closely related to that here. In other versions Miss Sportly becomes Miss Portly or Miss Grizzel.]
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