Con was the conjurer of the king
Ere the coming of Padraig Mor,
And a wand he had, and a golden ring,
And a five-prong crown he wore;
And his robe was trimmed with minever--
His robe of the royal blue,
For Con was the wonderful conjuror
In the days when the tricks were new.
He could pick a rabbit from out of a poke
Where never had rabbit lain;
He could pulp your watch like an egg's red yoke
And could give it you whole again;
And the king he laughed, "Ha-ha," he laughed,
Till they thumped on his back anon;
And the other magicians went dancing daft
To see the magic of Con.
Now Con he climbed on a moonbeam grey
To the dusk of the god's great shop,
And he stole the Elixir of Life away,
And he drank it, every drop;
He poured the draught in a golden cup
On a wonderful day that's gone,
And he swilled it round and he tossed it up,
And that was the curse of Con.
And the old king died at ninety-six
And his son he reigned instead;
But Con he conjured the same old tricks,
And his hair crow-black on his head;
And the new king died, and another king,
And another king after he,
But Con went on with his conjuring
The same as it used to be.
When the fifth king came (he was long of limb
And a hasty man) he swore,
When Con he conjured his tricks for him,
And he kicked Con through the door;
For that's in the songs the minstrels sung,
And thus is the story told,
For "Con," said the king, "you're none so young,
And your tricks are plaguey old!"
* * *
Now Con he tramps from shire to shire,
And he must till the crack of doom;
He takes the road in the dust and mire,
And he sleeps in the windy broom;
He's no address and he's no abode,
And his jacket's the worse o' wear;
And I've met him once on the Portsmouth Road,
And once at a Wicklow fair.
When the roundabouts and the swings are slow
And a conjuring chap draws near,
And there's nothing about his mug to show
That it's seen five thousand year
(For that's the way that the songs were sung,
And thus is the story told),
You'll know it's Con and he's none so young
For his tricks are plaguey old.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Retired M.F.H._ "AND WHEN WE CAME TO THE SEVENTEENTH,
JUST AS I WAS GOING TO DRIVE, WHAT SHOULD I SEE BUT AN OLD DOG FOX
STARING AT ME OUT OF THE HEDGE!"
_Sympathetic Friend._ "YE-E-E-S?"
_Retired M.F.H._ "NOW, DON'T YOU THINK THAT WAS A MOST REMARKABLE
THING?"
_Sympathetic Friend._ "WELL, YES, I SUPPOSE IT WAS; BUT THEN, YOU SEE, I
DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT GOLF."]
* * * * *