The Man From Snowy River | Page 6

a
thought of foul play,
Though we well might have known that the
clever
Division would `put us away'.
Experience `docet', they tell us,
At least so I've frequently heard,

But, `dosing' or `stuffing', those fellows
Were up to each move on the
board:
They got to his stall -- it is sinful
To think what such villains
would do --
And they gave him a regular skinful
Of barley -- green
barley -- to chew.
He munched it all night, and we found him
Next morning as full as a
hog --
The girths wouldn't nearly meet round him;
He looked like
an overfed frog.
We saw we were done like a dinner --
The odds
were a thousand to one
Against Pardon turning up winner,
'Twas

cruel to ask him to run.
We got to the course with our troubles,
A crestfallen couple were we;

And we heard the `books' calling the doubles --
A roar like the surf
of the sea;
And over the tumult and louder
Rang `Any price Pardon,
I lay!'
Says Jimmy, `The children of Judah
Are out on the warpath
to-day.'
Three miles in three heats: -- Ah, my sonny,
The horses in those days
were stout,
They had to run well to win 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 --
He'll earn a disqualification;
Just think over THAT, now,
my man!'
Our money all gone and our credit,
Our horse couldn't gallop a yard;

And then people thought that WE did it!
It really was terribly hard.

We were objects of mirth and derision
To folk in the lawn and the
stand,
And the yells of the clever division
Of `Any price Pardon!'
were grand.
We still had a chance for the money,
Two heats still remained to be
run;
If both fell to us -- why, my sonny,
The clever division were
done.

And Pardon was better, we reckoned,
His sickness was

passing away,
So he went to the post for the second
And principal
heat of the day.
They're off and away with a rattle,
Like dogs from the leashes let slip,

And right at the back of the battle
He followed them under the
whip.
They gained ten good lengths on him quickly
He dropped
right away from the pack;
I tell you it made me feel sickly
To see
the blue jacket fall back.
Our very last hope had departed --
We thought the old fellow was
done,
When all of a sudden he started
To go like a shot from a gun.

His chances seemed slight to embolden
Our hearts; but, with teeth
firmly set,
We thought, `Now or never! The old 'un
May reckon
with some of 'em yet.'
Then loud rose the war-cry for Pardon;
He swept like the wind down
the dip,
And over the rise by the garden,
The jockey was done with
the whip
The field were at sixes and sevens --
The pace at the first
had been fast --
And hope seemed to drop from the heavens,
For
Pardon was coming at last.
And how he did come! It was splendid;
He gained on them yards
every bound,
Stretching out like a greyhound extended,
His girth
laid right down on the ground.
A shimmer of silk in the cedars
As
into the running they wheeled,
And out flashed the whips on the
leaders,
For Pardon had collared the field.
Then right through the ruck he came sailing --
I knew that the battle
was won --
The son of Haphazard was failing,
The Yattendon filly
was done;
He cut down the Don and the Dancer,
He raced clean
away from the mare --
He's in front! Catch him now if you can, sir!

And up went my hat in the air!
Then loud from the lawn and the garden
Rose offers of `Ten to one
ON!'
`Who'll bet on the field? I back Pardon!'
No use; all the money

was gone.
He came for the third heat light-hearted,
A-jumping and
dancing about;
The others were done ere they started
Crestfallen,
and tired, and worn out.
He won it, and ran it much faster
Than even the first, I believe
Oh,
he was the daddy, the master,
Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve.
He
showed 'em the method to travel --
The boy sat as still as a stone --

They never could see him for gravel;
He came in hard-held, and
alone.
. . . . .
But he's old -- and his eyes are grown hollow;
Like me, with my
thatch of the snow;
When he dies, then I hope I may follow,
And go
where the racehorses go.
I don't want no harping nor singing --

Such things with my