Hasn't MATT's riding at times turned you yellow,
And RAIKES's wild steering almost done you brown?
_Trainer_. Maybe, Sir, maybe! We can't _always_ spot 'em,
But average winnings come out very well.
On this next race, now, I fancy we've got 'em,
Ah, fairly on toast, far as I can hear tell.
_Mr. Punch_. The Sanguine Old Man--is _he_ of your opinion?
And SOLLY, the owner, is he at his ease?
_Trainer_. Oh, dash the doldrums! I scorn their dominion.
There are some people no fellow can please.
What I say, Mister, is, look at their Stable,
The old Opposition shop. Lot of old crocks!
_Flowing-Tide?_ Faugh! Half his doings are fable.
_Home Rule?_ The deadest of utter dead-locks!
_Socialist?_ Why, half the Party won't back him.
_Eight Hour?_ A roarer, all noise and no pace!
Eh? _Local Option?_ Won't win; though they whack him!
What _have_ they got, that can score the Big Race?
_Mr. Punch_. Well, I must own they do seem a bit out of it.
Still, the Big Race for surprises is famed.
_Trainer_. Bah! It's a moral for us, not a doubt of it.
Horse that can lick us is not foaled or named.
_Mr. Punch_. Glad you're so cock-sure, dear JOKIM. Still lately
They've scored some small handicaps, that you'll allow.
_Trainer_. Oh! Harborough Stakes! Well, that don't scare me greatly,
Mere fluke after all, though they raised a big row.
_Mr. Punch_. It's mostly "a fluke" when opponents go by us;
But flukes, you know, count, at the end of the game.
_Trainer_. Well, look at the betting! Although they decry us,
They'd like to have money on us all the same.