(With Apologies to "Father O'Flynn").
Of men in this town there's the quaintest variety,
Some of them landlords and full of propriety,
Some of them full of their beer to satiety.
None would I pick as the worst of them all.
Here's a health to ye, brothers in sin,
Down it and down it, and down it agin.
If you are sensible, naught's indefensible,
Customers all, of the old National.
When there were sparks in the midst of the towels of it,
When there was fire in the centre and bowels of it,
Who was it rescued the roosters and fowls of it?
Divil if I know! Do you know at all?
Never before such excitement was stirred,
Everyone went off their heads, on my word,
Smash came horology, bang went theology,
House of the priest and the old National.
Men of the town, you've a wonderful way with you,
Some of us doubt should we swear at, or pray for you,
Turn a cold shoulder, or wish a "Good-day" to you.
Give you a hand-shake or give you a stick.
Where upon earth was your sense of control?
Gone to the dickens, I swear, on my soul.
Checking the steadied ones, blocking cool-headed ones;
Hind'ring each fireman who worked like a brick.
All I have said is in truth and in sincerity,
Minus unkindness or undue asperity.
Say, will you pardon my youthful temerity?
Just shed a tear for the old National.
When you've had time to get over my jest,
Tell me, who were they stood out from the rest?
Right in the murk of it, never a shirk of it
Struggling to save us the old National.
Here's a health to you Cambridge Brigade,
Here are our thanks for the struggle you made,
Here's to the luck of you.
Here's to the pluck of you
Trying to save us the old National.
(Waikato Independent 1912)