The legend of Seamus Grady

By Frank Maguire

In the annals of the Wild West, in the valley not so shady,
There's a legend of an Irish boy'o name of Seamus Grady,
And the night, 'tis said, announced his birth by reddish crescent moon,
While the day gave birth to thunderheads in August hot monsoon.

"He's got a mind," the doctor said, "without a doubt his own;
"For he wants to come into the world by headin' up, not down."
When the father heard the doctor's words, he told'm "Stow your guff!
"He's gonna do just like he's told, and not pull a McDuff."

But Seamus had decided it would be his way instead;
"I'll stand upon my own two feet, and not upon my head.
"There won't be any flippin', I'm not fond of acrobatics.
"And bein' born upon one's head is only for fanatics."

While Seamus, still a babe of two, took to ridin' horses,
His parents were astonished at his natural resources.
"Miraculous!" his parents said, them both bein' religious,
"Maybe he's an angel?" "Or devil who's prodigious!"

At six years old, a jockey he, Seamus won the Stakes,
The story goes, ahead by ten, the horse a leg he breaks;
So Seamus leapt down from his back and grabbed'm by his toes,
And dragged the steed across the line, just winnin' by a nose.

Now Seamus grew so massive, 10 feet tall, and quarter ton,
They had to breed a special horse, a jumbo Percheron.
When Seamus Grady rides 'm, sure the earth in places quakes,
He starts coyotes howlin', and rattles all the snakes.

So if you see through heat waves risin' from the desert floor
What seems to be a mirage or a might Minotaur,
Just think back to the legend of that valley not so shady,
And you can tell your progeny that you saw Seamus Grady.

© Frank Maguire