THE RACING TIPSTER'S STORY
by
Leonard Pounds

Sorry, sir, don't want to squeeze yer,
It's a jolly tight fit on this tram
Ter git on at all was a teaser,
It's the race meeting causes this jamb
Am I goin' miself, sir? Why rather,
I'm straight away ter the course
I in'erits the feelin' from father,
That feelin' of love of a 'orse.

Of course you're a parson, sir, ain't yer
And thinks as 'orse racin' ain't right
P'raps yer thinks ter sit next ter me'll taint right
But it ain't - 'arf a mo - got a light?
Thankee, sir, No, it ain't fair, sir,
To call us racin' boys wrong
I'll tell yer a tale if yer care, sir,
Will yer listen? it ain't very long.

"I was groom at the time of this story,
Groom to old Squire 'Ackerday
'E'd raced till 'is old 'ead was 'oary,
And still 'ad 'is plunge Derby Day
At the time of which I'm now relatin',
'E 'ad a fine mare bein' trained
(An' ter you, sir, I don't mind a statin',
'Is finances was just a bit strained).

She was entered for sev'ral big races
And this time was the eve of the chief
In the mornin' she'd shewn us 'er paces
An' 'er quickness was nigh past belief
It was just two-er-clock in the mornin'
No, it wasn't, 'twas three - I'm a liar
At any rate, day was just dawnin',
When up went the great cry of 'Fire'.

Big flames was a-lickin' the stables
But I rushed through them all in a flash
For the mare was in one of them stables
And I brought down the door wiv a crash
The smoke and the flames, sir, was shockin'
But I managed ter collar our Kate
Our Kate wiv the pretty white stockin'
Thank 'eaven I wasn't too late.

The smoke 'ad been thick - that's a fact, sir
And I gasped as I reached the fresh air
I'd risked my young life by the act, sir,
But I'd saved the Squire's thoroughbred mare
So don't say all racin' men's wrong, sir,
Yer can easy find blokes as is worse
Well, I gets down just 'ere, sir. So long, sir."

Aside: "Now let's see what we've got in 'is purse!"