A Great Sportsman
by Seoirse Seartan
Dear to Uibh Laoghaire is the sport of the chase,
The joy of the hunt is in the blood of the race
Her fowlers and fishers in sportsmanlike style,
Always return with something worth while.
Prince of the tribe with a countryside fame,
Is Denis, the Blacksmith, of accurate aim,
With vision as sharp as the eagle's keen sight,
Every shot finds its mark on the ground or in flight.
The trail of the otter or badger he'll find,
And haunts of the fishes of every kind,
The woodcock and snipe to their coverts he'll trace,
And at call of the grouse you'll see joy on his face.
As the teal and the mallard are passing in flight,
To the reeds and the marshes for shelter by night,
He will tell you their numbers and which is the drake,
And know where to find them at dawn by the lake.
In the smithy he is expert as Vulcan of old,
The ring of his anvil like Angelous tolled,
And round him his neighbours delight in the tales,
Of his sporting adventures on mountains and dales.
By nature a fisherman, gentle and kind,
He leaves all disciples of Walton behind,
Though he shod many horses from Cork to Gougane,
He forged his best sets for the Capaillín Bán.