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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343926" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Dream of the Melbourne Cup</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bring me a quart of colonial beer <br>And some doughy damper to make good cheer, <br>I must make a heavy dinner; <br>Heavily dine and heavily sup, <br>Of indigestible things fill up, <br>Next month they run the Melbourne Cup, <br>And I have to dream the winner. <br>Stoke it in, boys! the half-cooked ham, <br>The rich ragout and the charming cham., <br>I've got to mix my liquor; <br>Give me a gander's gaunt hind leg, <br>Hard and tough as a wooden peg, <br>And I'll keep it down with a hard-boiled egg, <br>'Twill make me dream the quicker. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now that I'm full of fearful feed, <br>Oh, but I'll dream of a winner indeed <br>In my restless, troubled slumber; <br>While the night-mares race through my heated brain <br>And their devil-riders spur amain, <br>The trip for the Cup will reward my pain, <br>And I'll spot the winning number. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thousands and thousands and thousands more, <br>Like sands on the white Pacific shore, <br>The crowding people cluster; <br>For evermore is the story old, <br>While races are bought and backers are sold, <br>Drawn by the greed of the gain of gold, <br>In their thousands still they muster. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> * * * * * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bookies' cries grow fierce and hot, <br>&quot;I'll lay the Cup! The double, if not!&quot; <br>&quot;Five monkeys, Little John, sir!&quot; <br>&quot;Here's fives bar one, I lay, I lay!&quot; <br>And so they shout through the livelong day, <br>And stick to the game that is sure to pay, <br>While fools put money on, sir! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now in my dream I seem to go <br>And bet with a &quot;book&quot; that I seem to know -- <br>A Hebrew money-lender; <br>A million to five is the price I get -- <br>Not bad! but before I book the bet <br>The horse's name I clean forgret, <br>Its number and even gender. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now for the start, and here they come, <br>And the hoof-strokes roar like a mighty drum <br>Beat by a hand unsteady; <br>They come like a rushing, roaring flood, <br>Hurrah for the speed of the Chester blood; <br>For Acme is making the pace so good <br>They are some of 'em done already. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But round the track she begins to tire, <br>And a mighty shout goes up &quot;Crossfire!&quot; <br>The magpie jacket's leading; <br>And Crossfire challenges fierce and bold, <br>And the lead she'll have and the lead she'll hold, <br>But at length gives way to the black and gold, <br>Which right to the front is speeding. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Carry them on and keep it up -- <br>A flying race is the Melbourne Cup, <br>You must race and stay to win it; <br>And old Commotion, Victoria's pride, <br>Now takes the lead with his raking stride, <br>And a mighty roar goes far and wide -- <br>&quot;There's only Commotion in it!&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But one draws out from the beaten ruck <br>And up on the rails by a piece of luck <br>He comes in a style that's clever; <br>&quot;It's Trident! Trident! Hurrah for Hales!&quot; <br>&quot;Go at 'em now while their courage fails;&quot; <br>&quot;Trident! Trident! for New South Wales!&quot; <br>&quot;The blue and white for ever!&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under the whip! with the ears flat back, <br>Under the whip! though the sinews crack, <br>No sign of the base white feather: <br>Stick to it now for your breeding's sake, <br>Stick to it now though your hearts should break, <br>While the yells and roars make the grand-stand shake, <br>They come down the straignt together. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trident slowly forges ahead, <br>The fierce whips cut and the spurs are red, <br>The pace is undiminished <br>Now for the Panics that never fail! <br>But many a backer's face grows pale <br>As old Commotion swings his tail <br>And swerves -- and the Cup is finished. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> * * * * * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now in my dream it all comes back: <br>I bet my coin on the Sydney crack, <br>A million I've won, no question! <br>&quot;Give me my money, you hook-nosed hog! <br>Give me my money, bookmaking dog!&quot; <br>But he disappeared in a kind of fog, <br>And I woke with &quot;the indigestion&quot;.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Barton+Paterson">Andrew Barton Paterson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343926" data-title="A Dream of the Melbourne Cup de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="Bring me a quart of colonial beer 
And some doughy damper to make good cheer, 
I must make a heavy dinner; 
Heavily dine and heavily sup, 
Of indigestible things fill up, 
Next month they run the Melbourne Cup, 
And I have to dream the winner. 
St..."></div>
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