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NEWBRIDGE 1938 - A COURSING POEM

Leinster Leader
15/01/1938
"THE LAMENT OF BRAER HARE."
 
I’m senior hare in Connell, on the Coursing Club’s preserves,
And hope you’ll give my protest the display that it deserves.
I’ve romped and roamed the fields around here for twenty years and more,
And never have been forced to write to the Public Press before.
 
This action was made necessary by verses which appeared
In your last Christmas issue, the effect of which I feared
Would be to let the public think my species had withdrew
For evermore from Newbridge fields and sought out pastures new.
 
That such is far from being the case these verses will explain,
Our action in deserting here is part of a campaign
To keep our sporting writer, "Shaun," from probing our affairs,
And writing indiscreetly of the vagaries of the hares.
 
Just after the Cup the meeting in December, thirty-six
Comments to which this writer did his Nom-de-Plume affix,
Appeared in your own columns, and made obvious demand.
On someone to explain why we so slowly "came to hand."
 
We have unto ourselves a Law by which no human kind
Can teach us how to run, or turn, or break, or stay behind,
And hence we felt it keenly that a mortal should aspire
To lecture us in tactics, or excuse from us require.
 
That night we held a meeting, at which I did preside
And, on my proposal did without dissent decide,
To forthwith quite the Connell fields, and thus a lesson teach
To Pressmen who, by prose or verse, our private rights impeach.
 
My kinsmen scattered far and wide to Dublin, Louth and Meath,
But found conditions far from being like on our native heath.
Hence I have now decided, as suffice is our protest.
To recall all to Newbridge fields for coursing at its best.
 
Yes, we’ll be back in Newbridge, and attend all future meets,
And Tommy need no longer dread our absence on his "Beats,"
And Johnny, Paddy, Jack and Joe, can let their fears abate-
They’ll have the running of the Cup in Nineteen Thirty Eight.
 
My hectic life is closing fast; my fast "Sho-Ho" is near,
I’ve run and won in many a course, but just one thing I fear-
When I give out my final spurt, and die without a squeak,
I hope-nay crave- that "Spadah" will not write me up as "weak."
"BRAER HARE."
A poem about coursing in the vicinity of Newbridge (Connell) from the Leinster Leader 15/01/1938

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