Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344073" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Amateur Rider</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Him goin' to ride for us! Him -- with the pants and the eyeglass and all. <br>Amateur! don't he just look it -- it's twenty to one on a fall. <br>Boss must be gone off his head to be sending out steeplechase crack <br>Out over fences like these with an object like that on his back. <br>Ride! Don't tell me he can ride. With his pants just as loose as balloons, <br>How can he sit on a horse? and his spurs like a pair of harpoons; <br>Ought to be under the Dog Act, he ought, and be kept off the course. <br>Fall! why, he'd fall off a cart, let alone off a steeplechase horse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yessir! the 'orse is all ready -- I wish you'd have rode him before; <br>Nothing like knowing your 'orse, sir, and this chap's a terror to bore; <br>Battleaxe always could pull, and he rushes his fences like fun -- <br>Stands off his jump twenty feet, and then springs like a shot from a gun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, he can jump 'em all right, sir, you make no mistake, 'e's a toff -- <br>Clouts 'em in earnest, too, sometimes; you mind that he don't clout you off -- <br>Don't seem to mind how he hits 'em, his shins is as hard as a nail, <br>Sometimes you'll see the fence shake and the splinters fly up from the rail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All you can do is to hold him and just let him jump as he likes, <br>Give him his head at the fences, and hang on like death if he strikes; <br>Don't let him run himself out -- you can lie third or fourth in the race -- <br>Until you clear the stone wall, and from that you can put on the pace. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fell at that wall once, he did, and it gave him a regular spread, <br>Ever since that time he flies it -- he'll stop if you pull at his head, <br>Just let him race -- you can trust him -- he'll take first-class care he don't fall, <br>And I think that's the lot -- but remember, he must have his head at the wall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, he's down safe as far as the start, and he seems to sit on pretty neat, <br>Only his baggified breeches would ruinate anyone's seat -- <br>They're away -- here they come -- the first fence, and he's head over heels for a crown! <br>Good for the new chum! he's over, and two of the others are down! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now for the treble, my hearty -- By Jove, he can ride, after all; <br>Whoop, that's your sort -- let him fly them! He hasn't much fear of a fall. <br>Who in the world would have thought it? And aren't they just going a pace? <br>Little Recruit in the lead there will make it a stoutly-run race. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lord! but they're racing in earnest -- and down goes Recruit on his head, <br>Rolling clean over his boy -- it's a miracle if he ain't dead. <br>Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet! By the Lord, he's got most of 'em beat -- <br>Ho! did you see how he struck, and the swell never moved in his seat? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Second time round, and, by Jingo! he's holding his lead of 'em well; <br>Hark to him clouting the timber! It don't seem to trouble the swell. <br>Now for the wall -- let him rush it. A thirty-foot leap, I declare -- <br>Never a shift in his seat, and he's racing for home like a hare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What's that that's chasing him -- Rataplan -- regular demon to stay! <br>Sit down and ride for your life now! Oh, good, that's the style -- come away! <br>Rataplan's certain to beat you, unless you can give him the slip, <br>Sit down and rub in the whalebone -- now give him the spurs and the whip! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Battleaxe, Battleaxe, yet -- and it's Battleaxe wins for a crown; <br>Look at him rushing the fences, he wants to bring t'other chap down. <br>Rataplan never will catch him if only he keeps on his pins; <br>Now! the last fence, and he's over it! Battleaxe, Battleaxe wins! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, sir, you rode him just perfect -- I knew from the fust you could ride. <br>Some of the chaps said you couldn't, an' I says just like this a' one side: <br>Mark me, I says, that's a tradesman -- the saddle is where he was bred. <br>Weight! you're all right, sir, and thank you; and them was the words that I said.</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=344073" data-title="The Amateur Rider de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="Him goin' to ride for us! Him -- with the pants and the eyeglass and all. 
Amateur! don't he just look it -- it's twenty to one on a fall. 
Boss must be gone off his head to be sending out steeplechase crack 
Out over fences like these with an obj..."></div>
</div>
</div>