Print Story Poem of the Day: "How the Favourite Beat Us" by Banjo Paterson
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By Beechwood 45789 (Mon Jun 09, 2008 at 01:43:13 AM EST) (all tags)
"They breed 'em at Hexham, it's risky to vex 'em."


How the Favourite Beat Us
by Banjo Paterson

"A ye," said the boozer. "I tell you it's true, sir,
    I once was a punter with plenty of pelf,
But gone is my glory, I'll tell you the story
    How I stiffened my horse and got stiffened myself.

"'Twas a mare called the Cracker, I came down to back her,
    But found she was favourite all of a rush,
The folks just did pour on to lay six to four on,
    And several bookies were killed in the crush.

"It seems old Tomato was stiff, though a starter;
    They reckoned him fit for the Caulfield to keep.
The Bloke and the Donah were scratched by their owner,
    He only was offered three-fourths of the sweep.

"We knew Salamander was slow as a gander,
    The mare could have beat him the length of a straight,
And old Manumissions was out of condition,
    And most of the others were running off weight.

"No doubt someone 'blew it', for everyone knew it,
    The bets were all gone, and I muttered in spite,
'If I can't get a copper, by Jingo, I'll stop her,
    Let the public fall in, it will serve the brutes right.'

"I said to the jockey, 'Now listen, my cocky,
    You watch as you're cantering down by the stand,
I'll wait where that toff is and give you the office,
    You're only to win if I lift my hand.'

"Then I tried to back her – 'What price is the Cracker?'
    'Our books are all full, sir,' each book did swear;
My mind, then, I made up, my fortune I played up
    I bet every shilling against my own mare.

"I strolled to the gateway, the mare in the straight way
    Was shifting and dancing, and pawing the ground,
The boy saw me enter and wheeled for his canter,
When a darned great mosquito came buzzing around.

"They breed 'em at Hexham, it's risky to vex 'em,
    They suck a man dry at a sitting, no doubt,
But just as the mare passed, he fluttered my hair past,
    I lifted my hand, and I flattened him out.

"I was stunned when they started, the mare simply darted
    Away from the front when the flag was let fall,
For none there could match her, and none tried to catch her –
    She finished a furlong in front of them all.

"You bet that I went for the boy whom I sent for
    The moment he weighed and came out of the stand –
'Who paid you to win it? Come, own up this minute.'
    'Lord love yer,' said he, 'why, you lifted your hand.'

"'Twas true, by Saint Peter, the cursed 'muskeeter'
    Had broke me so broke that I hadn't a brown,
And you'll find the best course is when dealing with horses
    To win when you're able, and keep your hands down."

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Poem of the Day: "How the Favourite Beat Us" by Banjo Paterson | 1 comment (1 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
awesome. by garlic (2.00 / 0) #1 Mon Jun 09, 2008 at 10:34:29 AM EST
muskeeter.

Horse racing has funny jargon, that you can sort of understand, but not quite.


Poem of the Day: "How the Favourite Beat Us" by Banjo Paterson | 1 comment (1 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback