Page:The man from Snowy River and other verses.pdf/38

Three miles in three heats:—Ah, my sonny,
The horses in those days were stout,
They had to run well to earn money;
I don't see such horses about.
Your six-furlong vermin that scamper
Half-a-mile with their feather-weight up;
They wouldn't earn much of their damper
In a race like the President's Cup.

The first heat was soon set a-going;
The Dancer went off to the front;
The Don on his quarters was showing,
With Pardon right out of the hunt,
He rolled and he weltered and wallowed—
You'd kick your hat faster, I'll bet;
They finished all bunched and he followed
All lathered and dripping with sweat.

But troubles came thicker upon us,
For while we were rubbing him dry
The stewards came over to warn us:
'We hear you are running a bye!
'If Pardon don't spiel like tarnation
'And win the next heat—if he can—