nd think of the grief of the bookmaking host
At the sound of the summons to go to the post--
For down to the start with her thorough-bred air
As fit as a fiddle pranced Mulligan's mare!

They started, and off went the boy to the front,
He cleared out at once, and he made it a hunt;
He steadied as rounding the corner they wheeled,
Then gave her her head and she smothered the field.

The race put her owner right clear of his debts,
He landed a fortune in stakes and in bets,
He paid the old bailiff the whole of his pelf,
And gave him a hiding to keep for himself.

So all you bold sportsmen take warning, I pray,
Keep clear of the running, you'll find it don't pay;
For the very best rule that you'll hear in a week--
Is never to bet on a thing that can speak.

And whether you're lucky or whether you lose,
Keep clear of the cards and keep clear of the booze,
And fortune in season will answer your prayer
And send you a flyer like Mulligan's mare.

The Matrimonial Stakes

I wooed her with a steeplechase, I won her with a fall,
I made her heartstrings quiver on the flat
When the pony missed his take-off, and we crashed into the wall;
Well, she simply _had_ to have me after that!

It awoke a thrill of interest when they pulled me out for dead
From beneath the shattered ruins of a horse;
And, although she _looked_ indifferent when I landed--on my head--
In the water, it appealed to her, of course!

When I won the Flappers' Flat-race it was "all Sir Garneo",
For she praised the way I made my final run.
And she thought the riding did it--for how _could_ the poor girl know
That a monkey could have ridden it and won!

Then they "weighed me in" a winner--it's not often that occurs!
So I didn't let my golden chances slip,
For I showed her all the blood-marks where I jabbed him with the spurs,
And the whip-strokes where I hit him with the whip.

Then I asked her if she loved me, and she seemed inclined to shirk
For a moment, so I took her by the head
(So to speak) and rushed her at it; and she seemed to like the work
When she kissed me, though she blushed a rosy red.

She's a mouth as soft as velvet, and she plenty has of heart;
I could worship every little step she takes;
And the saddling-bell is ringing, so we're going to the start,
Certain winners, for the Matrimonial Stakes!

The Mountain Squatter