HIPPODROMANIA ? 



Ha ! Cadger goes down, see, he stands on 

 his crown — 

 Those rails take a power of clouting — 

 A long sliding blunder — he's up — well, I 

 wonder 

 If now it's all over but shouting. 



All loosely he's striding, the amateur's riding 

 All loosely, some reverie lock'd in 



Of a ''vision in smoke," or a ''wayfaring 

 bloke," 

 His poetical rubbish concocting. 



Now comes from afar the faint cry, " Here 

 they are," 

 "The violet winning with ease," 

 " Fred goes up like a shot," " Does he catch 

 him or not?" 

 Level money, I'll take the cerise. 



To his haunches I spring, and my muzzle I 

 bring 

 To his flank, to his girth, to his shoulder ; 

 Through the shouting and yelling I hear my 

 name swelling. 



The hearts of my backers grow bolder. 



137 



