The Grosvenor's Song Poem by Neil Stewart McLeod

I sing for you a song of old
That goes back through the ages,
A song that tells about a feast
That fills out history's pages,

When King William the Conqueror
Went hunting for a Boar,
He gave the knight who felled the beast
The name of 'Gross Venor'.
And Grosvenor, the Cheshire Lord,
When the gong for dinner rang,
Brought forth the game all garnished
Au pomme between his fangs.

They sliced him and they spiced him
And they turned him on a spit,
And served him with mouth open wide,
An apple stuffed in it.
With 'Salut à toi grand Sanglier',
The chant was made with glee,
That rumbled round the Norman hall
From all the company.

The ancient Chinese boatmen
In outrigger canoe,
Never sailed away to sea
Without a pig or two.
So in Hawaii we have the Luau,
In the Philippines, Lechon,
And all across Pacific Blue
Some local variation.

When down in Argentina,
To be macho just for fun,
They track down the Jabalí
Without bolas or a gun.
The Gaucho on the Pampas,
To impress his girl or wife,
Will go hunting for the Wild Boar
With nothing but a knife.

And so it is that round the world,
In many different ways,
The grand tradition of roasting pork
Is kept on wedding days.
They toil to bring the trophy home,
Hoist it up on high,
And 'crested' serve it to their guests
...'with Bay and Rosemary.'

Hail to thee, L'echon Baboy,
We thank God for your breed.
You grace our board and bring us joy
When we a throng would feed.
From age to age your visage
Has made banquet for a king,
A toast to thee and thanks as
You are served at this wedding.