THE QUEEN. 



Bear the crown to Lou Dillon, the queen of the turf, 

 That startled the world when she turned Readville 



Park, 



With her hoof beats as swift as the sobs of the surf, 

 When wind bends the trees and the storm clouds 

 are dark. 



The big star in her face and her coat of old gold, 

 Were wet with her sweat when the crowd cried 

 "She'll win/' 



But each stride was as true and her action as bold, 

 As when the bell tapped for the trial to begin. 



In the rosy hued past a few looked for the day, 

 A trotter would march to the two-minute score, 



Until Lou Dillon found the blue ribbon of clay 

 As soft as a glove and as firm as a floor. 



The salt air was as crisp as a morning in June, 



The flag on the stables hung limp to the pole, 

 The surroundings all showed the time most oppor- 

 tune, 



'Twas grasped, the mare started, she flashed to the 

 goal. 



'Twas the hope of her breeder to raise such a horse, 

 He saw her developed and trot in two eight ; 



When death claimed him it made the sole strain of 



remorse 

 Which clung to the mile at the two-minute rate. 



When his stable was scattered, the matinee king, 

 Who loves a fast horse for the road or the park, 



Was enthused with her speed, bid her off in the ring, 

 And trained her and raced her to lower the mark. 



'Tis of Billings I speak, the new king of the road, 

 Successor to Bonner, the road drivers' dean, 



And in Billings dame nature has reaped what she 



sowed, 

 His father owned Princess and he has the Queen. 



