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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344136" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Open Steeplechase</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,<br>By the side of Snowy River with a horse they called 'The Ace'.<br>And we brought him down to Sydney, and our rider, Jimmy Rice,<br>Got a fall and broke his shoulder, so they nabbed me in a trice,<br>Me, that never wore the colours, for the open Steeplechase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Make the running,' said the trainer, 'it's your only chance whatever,<br>Make it hot from start to finish, for the old black horse can stay,<br>And just think of how they'll take it, when they hear on Snowy River<br>That the country boy was plucky, and the country horse was clever.<br>You must ride for old Monaro and the mountain boys today.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Are you ready? said the starter, as we held the horses back.<br>All ablazing with impatience, with excitement all aglow;<br>Before us like a ribbon stretched the steeplechasing track,<br>And the sun-rays glistened brightly on the chestnut and the black<br>As the starter's words came slowly, 'Are, you, ready? Go!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well I scarcely knew we'd started, I was stupid-like with wonder<br>Till the field closed up beside me and a jump appeared ahead.<br>And we flew it like a hurdle, not a baulk and not a blunder,<br>As we charged it all together, and it fairly whistled under,<br>And then some were pulled behind me and a few shot out and led.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we ran for half the distance, and I'm making no pretenses<br>When I tell you I was feeling very nervous-like and queer,<br>For those jockeys rode like demons; you would think they'd lost their senses<br>If you saw them rush their horses at those rasping five-foot fences,<br>And in place of making running I was falling to the rear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till a chap came racing past me on a horse the called 'The Quiver',<br>And said he, 'My country joker, are you going to give it best?<br>Are you frightened of the fences? does their stoutness make you shiver?<br>Have they come to breeding cowards by the side of Snowy River?<br>Are there riders in Monaro?, 'but I never heard the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I drove The Ace and sent him just as fast as he could pace it<br>At the big black line of timber stretching fair across the track,<br>And he shot beside The Quiver. 'Now,' said I, 'my boy, we'll race it.<br>You can come with Snowy River if you're only game to face it,<br>Let us mend the pace a little and we'll see who cries a crack.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we raced away together, and we left the others standing,<br>And the people cheered and shouted as we settled down to ride,<br>And we clung beside The Quiver. At his taking off and landing<br>I could see his scarlet nostril and his mighty ribs expanding,<br>And The Ace stretched out in earnest, and we held him stride for stride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the pace was so terrific that they soon ran out their tether,<br>They were rolling in their gallop, they were fairly blown and beat,<br>But they both were game as pebbles, neither one would show the feather.<br>And we rushed them at the fences, and they cleared them both together,<br>Nearly every time they clouted, but they somehow kept their feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the last jump rose before us, and they faced it game as ever,<br>We were both at spur and whipcord, fetching blood at every bound,<br>And above the people's cheering and the cries of 'Ace' and 'Quiver',<br>I could hear the trainer shouting, 'One more run for Snowy River.'<br>Then we struck the jump together and came smashing to the ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, The Quiver ran to blazes, but The Ace stood still and waited,<br>Stood and waited like a statue while I scrambled on its back.<br>There was no one next or near me for the field was fairly slated,<br>So I cantered home a winner with my shoulder dislocated,<br>While the man who rode The Quiver followed limping down the track.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he shook my hand and told me that in all his days he never<br>Met a man who rode more gamely, and our last set-to was prime.<br>Then we wired them on Monaro how we chanced to beat The Quiver,<br>And they sent us back an answer, 'Good old sort from Snowy River:<br>Send us word each race you start in and we'll back you every time.'</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=344136" data-title="The Open Steeplechase de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,
By the side of Snowy River with a horse they called 'The Ace'.
And we brought him down to Sydney, and our rider, Jimmy Rice,
Got a fall and broke his shoulder, so they nabbed me in a trice,
M..."></div>
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