Page:The man from Snowy River and other verses.pdf/42

 He won it, and ran it much faster
 * Than even the first, I believe

Oh, he was the daddy, the master,
 * Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve.

He showed 'em the method to travel—
 * The boy sat as still as a stone—

They never could see him for gravel;
 * He came in hard-held, and alone.

But he's old—and his eyes are grown hollow;
 * Like me, with my thatch of the snow;

When he dies, then I hope I may follow,
 * And go where the racehorses go.

I don't want no harping nor singing—
 * Such things with my style don't agree;

Where the hoofs of the horses are ringing
 * There's music sufficient for me.

And surely the thoroughbred horses
 * Will rise up again and begin

Fresh races on far-away courses,
 * And p'raps they might let me slip in.