Christopher Davis was up upon Mavis
And Sammy MacGregor on Flo,
Jo Chauncy rode Spider, the rankest outsider,
But HE'D make a wooden horse go.
There was Robin and Leah and Boadicea,
And Chesterfield's Son of the Sea;
And Irish Nuneaton, who never was beaten,
They backed her at seven to three.

The course was the devil! A start on the level,
And then a stiff breather uphill;
A bank at the top with a four-foot drop,
And a bullfinch down by the mill.
A stretch of straight from the Whittlesea gate,
Then up and down and up;
And the mounts that stay through Farnshire clay
May bid for the Farnshire Cup.

The tipsters were touting, the bookies were shouting
'Bar one, bar one, bar one!'
With a glint and a glimmer of silken shimmer
The field shone bright in the sun,
When Farmer Brown came riding down:
'I hain't much time to spare,
But I've entered her name, so I'll play out the game,
On the back o' my old gray mare.