View source for The Wanderers's Irish Tour


''The Wanderers's Irish Tour'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]]. Undated.


== The Wanderers's Irish Tour ==

<poem>
My Stonyhurst lads, just listen awhile,
And I'll sing you a song in right musical style,
A song that will raise on your faces a smile,
Concerning our trip to the Emerald Isles.

A finer team than then went o'er
Was never seen in the world before,
For we had eleven men and more
Who unless they got out might be reckoned to score.

Oh, how can I tell of what fell to their lot,
Of the balls that they hit, and the balls they did not,
How the batsmen were cool and the bowlers were hot,
And the fielders were — well, goodness only knows what.

The Phoenix came out with their heads in the air,
The Phoenix went back in a state of despair,
For Henry's performance it made them all stare,
And we won by an innings and fifty to spare.

And Trinity, oh, but we walloped them well,
To George and the Doctor the honours there fell,
And Hatt's fast expresses dismissed them pell-mell,
And the heat was as great as in — Coromandel.

In conclusion the Leinster their colours have struck,
Where the present composer compiled a round "duck".
There we fought against audience and players and luck,
And pulled off the match by sheer coolness and pluck.

So fill up a bumper to one and to all,
Who handled the willow, the gloves and the ball.
May cricketers ever their prowess recall,
And may Stonyhurst flourish whatever befall.

They may change the old College in whole or in part,
They may add a new wing, and a frontage so smart,
But in spite of all labours and science and art,
The place of the past is the place of my heart.

And I just may remark at the end of my song
That the practical test is the best, and as long
As they turn out a breed as loyal and strong
As the boys of the past — they won't do very wrong.
</poem>




----
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:Complete Works|Back to Complete Works]]
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle|Back to Conan Doyle]]