Part 2

Would my name, I wondered, be written With theirs on th’ Immortal Scroll? And would’nt my mother be happy When she heard of her famous foal. I remember as clear as a picture The start for that famous race, I shot to the front like an arrow, Making a desperate pace, In the straight another horse joined me, Galloping, stride for stride, Whing went the whip thro’ the air to my flank-- Then I felt something go, inside, Try as I might, the others Shot past me, one by one, I finished tenth in eleven, And my racing career was done. I was sold to a man, who sold me To another, who sold me again, From master to master, man to man, And now I am here, in the rain, In a night-cab in foggy London, ’Mid the lamplight’s lurid glare-- --What’s that, “Covent Garden?” Good-bye--here’s another fare.

[Illustration]

A TOAST.

Here’s to the galloping hunter, Standing in stall or in box: Here’s to the pack in the kennel, And here’s to the little red fox: Tally ho! Tally ho! A health to each puppy and foal, Hark gone away! Drink while ye may, To the ladies, the fox-hunt, the bowl.

Transcriber’s Note:

Obsolete spellings and abbreviations were not changed. One misspelled word was corrected.