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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
Frank Maher Lyr Req: Songs about boxing or prizefighting (106* d) Lyr Add: MORRISSEY AND THE BENICIA BOY 26 Apr 05


Ye undaunted sons of Ireland, I pray attend a while,
To those few lines that I have penned down, they will cause you for to smile,
Concerning a great battle fought on Columbia's shore
By the Benicia Boy and Morrissey, that came from Templemore.

The Benicia Boy a challenge sent our hero out of hand,
And said, no man from Ireland before him there could stand,
Our hero smiled and then replied: "I'll meet you on the plain,
And for Paddy's land I mean to stand the laurels to maintain."

Five and twenty hundred dollars the prize it was to be,
Long Island be appointed in North America;
Both small and great from every State in multitude had ran,
The American's thought their champion would kill our Irishman.

When the two gallant champions stripped and stepped into the ring,
Some time they parried each other's blows with many a nimble spring;
The Benicia Boy drew first blood and that knocked our hero down,
And in the second round they both came to the ground.

The third and fourth the Yank was floored by Morrissey, it appears,
The fifth brave Morrissey went down amidst the Yankee cheers;
The boldly offered ten to one bright dollars on the ground,
While the Irish independently they took the bets all 'round.

Up to the tenth by Morrissey the Yankee he down he went,
The know-nothings all shook their heads, feeling sorely discontent;
They shouted to the Benicia Boy, Exert your skill they cried,
For our country's credit our cash on you we have relied.

"Twas then our spoke brave Morrissey, his voice being loud and high,
For Paddy's land I mean to stand, to conquer or to die;
Na-bock-lish then all brags you made, I mean to let you know
That an Irish cock is still true game wherever he does go.

The eleventh round decided all, the Yank was forced to yield,
With courage bold undaunted our hero stood the field;
The Benicia Boy they bore away, he was scarcely fit to stand,
While Morrissey he cleared the ropes and cheered for Paddy's land.

The Americans may no longer boast , nor Paddy's sons degrade,
For now they must surrender to our gallant Irish blade;
With honor now he wears the belt, and the Yankees may deplore
The day they challenged Morrissey, that came from Templemore.

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