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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344022" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You never heard tell of the story? <br>Well, now, I can hardly believe! <br>Never heard of the honour and glory <br>Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? <br>But maybe you're only a Johnnie <br>And don't know a horse from a hoe? <br>Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny, <br>But, really, a young un should know. <br>They bred him out back on the "Never", <br>His mother was Mameluke breed. <br>To the front -- and then stay there - was ever <br>The root of the Mameluke creed. <br>He seemed to inherit their wiry <br>Strong frames -- and their pluck to receive -- <br>As hard as a flint and as fiery <br>Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We ran him at many a meeting <br>At crossing and gully and town, <br>And nothing could give him a beating -- <br>At least when our money was down. <br>For weight wouldn't stop him, nor distance, <br>Nor odds, though the others were fast; <br>He'd race with a dogged persistence, <br>And wear them all down at the last. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the Turon the Yattendon filly <br>Led by lengths at the mile-and-a-half, <br>And we all began to look silly, <br>While her crowd were starting to laugh; <br>But the old horse came faster and faster, <br>His pluck told its tale, and his strength, <br>He gained on her, caught her, and passed her, <br>And won it, hands down, by a length. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then we swooped down on Menindie <br>To run for the President's Cup; <br>Oh! that's a sweet township -- a shindy <br>To them is board, lodging, and sup. <br>Eye-openers they are, and their system <br>Is never to suffer defeat; <br>It's "win, tie, or wrangle" -- to best 'em <br>You must lose 'em, or else it's "dead heat". </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We strolled down the township and found 'em <br>At drinking and gaming and play; <br>If sorrows they had, why they drowned 'em, <br>And betting was soon under way. <br>Their horses were good uns and fit uns, <br>There was plenty of cash in the town; <br>They backed their own horses like Britons, <br>And, Lord! how we rattled it down! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With gladness we thought of the morrow, <br>We counted our wages with glee, <br>A simile homely to borrow -- <br>"There was plenty of milk in our tea." <br>You see we were green; and we never <br>Had even a thought of foul play, <br>Though we well might have known that the clever <br>Division would "put us away". </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Experience docet, they tell us, <br>At least so I've frequently heard; <br>But, "dosing" or "stuffing", those fellows <br>Were up to each move on the board: <br>They got to his stall -- it is sinful <br>To think what such villains will do -- <br>And they gave him a regular skinful <br>Of barley -- green barley -- to chew. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He munched it all night, and we found him <br>Next morning as full as a hog -- <br>The girths wouldn't nearly meet round him; <br>He looked like an overfed frog. <br>We saw we were done like a dinner -- <br>The odds were a thousand to one <br>Against Pardon turning up winner, <br>'Twas cruel to ask him to run. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We got to the course with our troubles, <br>A crestfallen couple were we; <br>And we heard the " books" calling the doubles -- <br>A roar like the surf of the sea. <br>And over the tumult and louder <br>Rang "Any price Pardon, I lay!" <br>Says Jimmy, "The children of Judah <br>Are out on the warpath today." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three miles in three heats: -- Ah, my sonny, <br>The horses in those days were stout, <br>They had to run well to win money; <br>I don't see such horses about. <br>Your six-furlong vermin that scamper <br>Half-a-mile with their feather-weight up, <br>They wouldn't earn much of their damper <br>In a race like the President's Cup. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The first heat was soon set a-going; <br>The Dancer went off to the front; <br>The Don on his quarters was showing, <br>With Pardon right out of the hunt. <br>He rolled and he weltered and wallowed -- <br>You'd kick your hat faster, I'll bet; <br>They finished all bunched, and he followed <br>All lathered and dripping with sweat. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But troubles came thicker upon us, <br>For while we were rubbing him dry <br>The stewards came over to warn us: <br>"We hear you are running a bye! <br>If Pardon don't spiel like tarnation <br>And win the next heat -- if he can -- <br>He'll earn a disqualification; <br>Just think over that now, my man!" </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our money all gone and our credit, <br>Our horse couldn't gallop a yard; <br>And then people thought that we did it <br>It really was terribly hard. <br>We were objects of mirth and derision <br>To folks in the lawn and the stand, <br>Anf the yells of the clever division <br>Of "Any price Pardon!" were grand. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We still had a chance for the money, <br>Two heats remained to be run: <br>If both fell to us -- why, my sonny, <br>The clever division were done. <br>And Pardon was better, we reckoned, <br>His sickness was passing away, <br>So we went to the post for the second <br>And principal heat of the day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">They're off and away with a rattle, <br>Like dogs from the leashes let slip, <br>And right at the back of the battle <br>He followed them under the whip. <br>They gained ten good lengths on him quickly <br>He dropped right away from the pack; <br>I tell you it made me feel sickly <br>To see the blue jacket fall back. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our very last hope had departed -- <br>We thought the old fellow was done, <br>When all of a sudden he started <br>To go like a shot from a gun. <br>His chances seemed slight to embolden <br>Our hearts; but, with teeth firmly set, <br>We thought, "Now or never! The old un <br>May reckon with some of 'em yet." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then loud rose the war-cry for Pardon; <br>He swept like the wind down the dip, <br>And over the rise by the garden <br>The jockey was done with the whip. <br>The field was at sixes and sevens -- <br>The pace at the first had been fast -- <br>And hope seemed to drop from the heavens, <br>For Pardon was coming at last. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how he did come! It was splendid; <br>He gained on them yards every bound, <br>Stretching out like a greyhound extended, <br>His girth laid right down on the ground. <br>A shimmer of silk in the cedars <br>As into the running they wheeled, <br>And out flashed the whips on the leaders, <br>For Pardon had collared the field. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then right through the ruck he was sailing -- <br>I knew that the battle was won -- <br>The son of Haphazard was failing, <br>The Yattendon filly was done; <br>He cut down The Don and The Dancer, <br>He raced clean away from the mare -- <br>He's in front! Catch him now if you can, sir! <br>And up went my hat in the air! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then loud fron the lawn and the garden <br>Rose offers of "Ten to one on!" <br>"Who'll bet on the field? I back Pardon!" <br>No use; all the money was gone. <br>He came for the third heat light-hearted, <br>A-jumping and dancing about; <br>The others were done ere they started <br>Crestfallen, and tired, and worn out. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He won it, and ran it much faster <br>Than even the first, I believe; <br>Oh, he was the daddy, the master, <br>Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve. <br>He showed 'em the method of travel -- <br>The boy sat still as a stone -- <br>They never could see him for gravel; <br>He came in hard-held, and alone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * * * * * * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he's old -- and his eyes are grown hollow <br>Like me, with my thatch of the snow; <br>When he dies, then I hope I may follow, <br>And go where the racehorses go. <br>I don't want no harping nor singing -- <br>Such things with my style don't agree; <br>Where the hoofs of the horses are ringing <br>There's music sufficient for me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And surely the thoroughbred horses <br>Will rise up again and begin <br>Fresh faces on far-away courses, <br>And p'raps they might let me slip in. <br>It would look rather well the race-card on <br>'Mongst Cherubs and Seraphs and things, <br>"Angel Harrison's black gelding Pardon, <br>Blue halo, white body and wings." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if they have racing hereafter, <br>(And who is to say they will not?) <br>When the cheers and the shouting and laughter <br>Proclaim that the battle grows hot; <br>As they come down the racecourse a-steering, <br>He'll rush to the front, I believe; <br>And you'll hear the great multitude cheering <br>For Pardon, the son of Reprieve</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=344022" data-title="Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="You never heard tell of the story? Well, now, I can hardly believe! Never heard of the honour and glory Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? But maybe you're only a Johnnie And don't know a horse from a hoe? Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny,..."></div> </div> </div>
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