How We Won the Ribbon

Come and look around my office—
 * Floors are littered, walls are hung

With the treasures and the trophies
 * Of the days when I was young;

Rusty spur and snaffle idle, Polo-stick and gun and bridle,
 * In a sweet confusion flung.

There's my saddle when a rover—
 * That's the bridle hanging up,

Queensland-built—a Lachlan drover
 * Swopped me for a Kelpie pup!

By the Lord, it makes one ponder, When one thinks those spurs up yonder
 * Helped to win the Mulga Cup!

There's the bar I used on Wyndham
 * On the day you watched him "clear"

With the four-in-hand behind him—
 * Yet they’ll say it’s too severe.

See that bunch of faded ribbon? It belongs to Jack M'Kibbon,
 * But he always leaves it here.

And there's just a little story
 * Hanging to that bunch of blue;

I'm not claiming any glory
 * When I spin the yarn to you—

Yarns go best when pipes are glowing; Here’s the "Capstan"; set her going—
 * And remember this is true.

Pearl of price for hunter's duty
 * Was the grey mare Heart's Desire,

With the Snowdons' strength and beauty
 * And a dash of Panic fire;

And I never knew her failing At a dyke, a ditch, or paling—
 * She could jump her height and higher.

Now, the rider courted throwing
 * Who would touch her with the spurs

When the Snowdon mare got going
 * With that sweeping stride of hers;

She was restless, hot, and heady; She had smashed one man already,
 * And the fright had made her worse.

But her owner, nothing fearing,
 * Brave as ever man could be,

Saw the yearly Show was nearing
 * While he nursed a crippled knee,

So he called me, did M'Kibbon: "We’ve a mortgage on the ribbon,
 * Will you ride the mare for me?"



They had sent their speedy sprinters
 * Round the fences, one by one,

And the air was thick with splinters
 * Till you couldn't see the sun;

Such a striking, swerving, baulking! Saddles empty, riders walking!
 * Not a round was clearly done.

And the grey mare, Heart's Desire,
 * Stood and watched and seemed to know;

Fretted when they galloped by her,
 * Tossed her lean head to and fro ;

Then they called to me, "Get ready!" And M'Kibbon whispered, "Steady. . ."
 * But the crowd yelled, "Let her GO!!"

Now, beyond the five-foot palings,
 * As I set the mare a-swing,

From below the grand-stand railings
 * Someone's child crept in the ring,

And we never saw the youngster Till the mare was right against her
 * Shortening stride to make the spring!

So I loosed her head and drove her
 * With the red spurs ripping wild;

It was : Take the lot—and over,
 * Or God help that tiny child!

And I watched as though in dreaming Where the snow-white dress was gleaming,
 * And the babe looked up and smiled!

But I knew the mare I rode on— Could a leap be found too far For the quarters of old Snowdon And the heart of Blazing Star? Here she had the chance to show me— And the shod-hoofs flashed below me, Half a yard above the bar!

Then the dust-clouds! Had we cleared her?
 * Then the light shock as we land.

Then—the crowd stood up and cheered her
 * On the ring-fence and the stand,

But my brain was sick and spinning And I slung my chance of winning
 * As I took the mare in hand.

But they crowded round to hold her,
 * And they tied the badge of blue

In a knot upon her shoulder
 * That they dared me to undo!

So I left the prize upon her, And I think she won the honor
 * When she saved the lives of two!



And I joy Life’s merry road on,
 * But I linger when I pass

Where the best and gamest Snowdon
 * Takes her last sleep in the grass

With the wattle-boughs above her; And when others toast a lover
 * Then I pledge her in my glass.

Now, they reckon me a rider
 * In the showyard and the shire,

But I never faced a wider
 * Jump, a tougher or a higher

Since I rode for Jack M'Kibbon On the day we won the ribbon
 * With the grey mare Heart's Desire.