Billy Goats Gruff: Ch. 3 Kelligrews
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(regular)
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At the end of Pond Road, park and follow the old Newfie Bullet rail bed west for about five minutes.
The billy goats are waiting for you to dance with them to their favorite song. You may talk of Clara Nolan’s Ball or anything you choose But it couldn’t hold the snuff box to the spree at Kelligrews If you want your eyeballs straightened; then come along with me You’ll have to wear your glasses at the Kelligrews’ Soiree. There was birch rind, tar twine, cherry wine and turpentine Jowls and cavalanches, ginger beer and tea Pigs’ feet, cats’ meat, dumplings boiled up in a sheet Dandelion and crackie’s teeth at the Kelligrews Soiree. Oh, I borrowed Joshua’s Beaver, as I squared my yards to sail And a swallow tail from Rocky that was foxy on the tail; Ted Cuddahie’s old working pants and Marie Nolan’s shoes And an old white vest from Alastair to sport at Kelligrews. There was Brian Kitten, Ron Whitten, Victoria and Mrs. Liz Dancing like a little filly, ‘twould raise your heart to see Kent, Ben, Chris, Ryan, trinity, Haley and Shannon I tell you boys, we had a time at the Kelligrews’ Soiree. Oh, when I arrived at Jen Mooneys’ that night at half past eight The place was blocked with carriages stood waiting at the gate With Joshua’s funnel on my pate, the first words Jennie said “Here comes the local preacher with the pulpit on his head.” There was Conor Mews, Liam Hughes, Ryan, Marie and Declan Roose While Chris, he sat in the blues and looking hard at me Anne Fling, Maria King, and Matthew, champion of the ring And all the boxers I could bring to the Kelligrews’ Soiree. “The Torbay lancers first,” Miss Sarah kindly said Sure I danced with Pat Dunphy and Gary on her head And Ben danced with Holly, oh you should have seen his shoes As he lashed the old muskets from the rack that night at Kelligrews. There was boiled guineas, cold guineas, bullocks’ heads and pickaninnies And everything to catch the pennies; you’d break your sides to see Boiled duff, cold duff, apple jam was in a cuff I tell you boys, we had enough at the Kelligrews’ Soiree. Crooked Craig struck the fiddler and a hand I then took in. You should see Joshua’s beaver flattened to the rim And Rocky’s coat was like a vest; the tails were gone you see “Oh,” says I. “The devil haul ye and your Kelligrews’ Soiree.”
Update 2023: this is one of the oldest caches in Newfoundland so I plan to keep this active as long as possible and keep it in great shape as it is now. I'm very happy to have adopted this cache and am proud to own it as it's 7 years older than me!
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Whfg orsber lbh ernpu gur Qrivy'f Wnpx-Fgbar, bar bs gur ynetrfg ornpu ebpxf lbh jvyy rire frr, ybbx va qrnq oyrnpurq fgnaq bs gerrf ba lbhe yrsg sbe fvyire qhpg-gncrq pbirerq pbagnvare.