I'd reckon his weight as eight-stun-eight, <br />And his height as five-foot-two, <br />With a face as plain as an eight-day clock <br />And a walk as brisk as a bantam-cock -- <br />Game as a bantam, too, <br />Hard and wiry and full of steam, <br />That's the boss of the English Team, <br />Reverend Mullineux! <br /> <br />Makes no row when the game gets rough -- <br />None of your "Strike me blue!" <br />"Yous wants smacking across the snout!" <br />Plays like a gentleman out-and-out -- <br />Same as he ought to do. <br />"Kindly remove from off my face!" <br />That's the way that he states his case, <br />Reverend Mullineux. <br /> <br />Kick! He can kick like an army mule -- <br />Run like a kangaroo! <br />Hard to get by as a lawyer-plant, <br />Tackles his man like a bull-dog ant -- <br />Fetches hom over too! <br />Didn't the public cheer and shout <br />Watchin' him chuckin' big blokes about, <br />Reverend Mullineux! <br /> <br />Scrimmage was packed on his prostrate form, <br />Somehow the ball got through -- <br />Who was it tackled our big half-back, <br />Flinging him down like an empty sack, <br />Right on our goal-line too? <br />Who but the man that we thought was dead, <br />Down with a score of 'em on his head, <br />Reverend Mullineux.<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-reverend-mullineux/
