The lover rubbed the smitten part,
And from the garden fled.
A RISKY RIDE.
BY CAMPBELL RAE-BROWN.
"A risky ride," they called it.
Lor bless ye, there wasn't no risk:
I knew if I gave 'er 'er head, sir,
That "Painted Lady" would whisk
Like a rocket through all the horses,
And win in a fine old style,
With "the field" all a-tailin' behind 'er
In a kind of a' Indian file.
* * * * *
You didn't know old Josh Grinley--
"Old Josh o' the Whitelands Farm,"
As his father had tilled afore 'im,
And his afore 'im.--No harm
Ever touched one of the Grinleys
When the 'Ollingtons owned the lands;
But they ruined themselves through racing,
And it passed into other hands.
Ain't ye heard how Lord 'Ollington died, sir,
On that day when "Midlothian Maid"
Broke down when just winning the "Stewards'"?
Every farthing he'd left was laid
On the old mare's chance; and vict'ry
Seemed fairly within his grasp
When she stumbled--went clean to pieces.
With a cry of despair--a gasp--
Lord 'Ollington staggered backwards;
A red stream flowed from his mouth,
And he died--with the shouts ringing round him:
"Beaten by Queen o' the South!"
But I'm going on anyhow,--ain't I?
I began about my ride;
And I'm talking now like a novel
Of how Lord 'Ollington died.
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