Sir Murgatroyd at Sebastapool

Does anybody have a link to a copy of a humorous poem named Sir Murgatroyd at Sebastapool? I have googled various spellings (Mergatroyd, Murgatroid, etc.), but come up with nothing. It was about two legendary wresters, Sir Murgatroyd the Murderer, and Sebastapool the Mangler. I saw it long ago in a collection of humorous verse called Pack Up Your Troubles, published in 1942. I can only recall snippets, like “The Murderer was half mangled, and the Mangler was half murdered”, but I remeber it was very funny, and I would like to find it again.

Here is the poem you are looking for (I love it too):


Sebastapool The Manger was a wrestler known and feared
Whenevr and wherever he professionally appeared.
He ws just a blog of blubber with the controuf of a barrel,
But every ounce was double-packed with petrifying peril!
His arms were thick as tree-trunks and his fists as big as pails,
And when he gripped a grappler was was left was “mere details”
Tho some there were who doubted what he had below his hat,
Sebastapool The Manger was almight on the mate
And none, whatever else they thought, had evry questions THAT.

Among the famous champions of whom epic tales were told,
Sir Murgatroyd The Murderer was something to behold!
A big, ferocious bullet-headed, bellows chested gent
With a locomotive chassis, and a jaw of pure cement.
He was wicked… he was nasty … he was anything but nice,
And he seldom signed a challenger who thought about it twice.
But Sebastapool the Manger, with a terrifying leer,
I’ll crush him to a jelly and I’ll spread him on the mat
And I’ll eat 'em both together fer me vitamins and fat.”

Now, gentlemen, I needn’t say that “them was fightin’ speeches”
The kind that lead to sanctions and to diplomatic breaches.
They were not merely persiflage or idle talk, or banter;
The challenge here was squarely meant and squarely met instanter.
Sir Murgatroyd was not the man to see his status dwindling;
He founded on the table-top and smashed into kindling
To which Sebastapool replied, in perfect English “NUTS!”

They met November twenty-third at Riverside Arena;
Gilhooley was the timer, and the referee, De Pinna.
A hundred thousand noses faced the roped and matted ring -
Celebritities and movie stars and all that sort of thing.
The Manger and the Murderer were full of fight and bile;
They glowered at the camera men who crowded in the aisle.
They glowered at each other too, and at the referee -
The sight was stark … or primitive … or savage … or all three!

But Referee De Pinna was a fearless man, and stern,
There wasn’t much about the game De Pinna had to learn.
He was a scrawny little guy, as nervous as a cat,
But every second in the ring he knew where he was at.
You couldn’t fool him on a foul, or gype him on a fall,
And when he said a man was DOWN,- why he was DOWN that’s all.

It was eight o’clock precises that he bounded in the ring
And he raised a hand for silence with the grandeur of a king.
He called the burly battelers to the center of the mat
And gave them their instructions in just thirty second flat.
The Mangler and The Murderer, their eyes ablaze with hate,
Shook hands, with him between 'em at one minute after eight.
A silence, short but ominous - and silence, then THE BELL!
They met like sizzling cannot balls exploded out of Hell.

Observers saw a burst of smoke from scorching cloth and leather
And we a loud resounding grunt, they wrapped themselves together!
Sebastapool and Murgatroyd were arm, and leg and torso,
About as homogeneous as a meatball is or more so.

It was no very easy task to get them both untangled,
The Mangler was half murdered, and The Murderer have mangled!
And no one knew exactly who between them as the 'WINNAH"
For no one could find hide or hair of Referee De Pinna!

His mourners raised a handsome shaft recording the disaster,
Surmounted by a Dove of Peace in virgin alabaster.


But two sides hath an argument, and who essays a third,
He winneth not, he loseth not - he only gets 'THE BIRD!"

Have a nice weekend.