The Man From Snowy River

Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve You never heard tell of the story? Well, now, I can hardly believe! Never heard of the honour and glory Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve? But maybe you're only a Johnnie And don't know a horse from a hoe? Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny, But, really, a young un should know. They bred him out back on the 'Never', His mOther was Mameluke breed. To the front and then stay there was ever The root of the Mameluke creed. He seemed to inherit their wiry Strong frames and their pluck to receive As hard as a flint and as fiery Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve. We ran him at many a meeting At crossing and gully and town, And nothing could give him a beating At least when our money was down. For weight wouldn't stop him, nor distance, Nor odds, though the Others were fast, He'd race with a dogged persistence, And wear them all down at the last. At the Turon the Yattendon filly Led by lengths at the mile-and-a-half, And we all began to look silly, While HER crowd were starting to laugh; But the old horse came faster and faster, His pluck told its tale, and his strength, He gained on her, caught her, and passed her, And won it, hands-down, by a length. And then we swooped down on Menindie To run for the President's Cup Oh! that's a sweet township a shindy To them is board, lodging, and sup. Eye-openers they are, and their system Is never to suffer defeat; It's 'win, tie, or wrangle' to best 'em You must lose 'em, or else it's 'dead heat'. We strolled down the township and found 'em At drinking and gaming and play; If sorrows they had, why they drowned 'em, And betting was soon under way. Their horses were good 'uns and fit 'uns, There was plenty of cash in the town; They backed their own horses like Britons, And, Lord! how WE rattled it down! With gladness we thought of the morrow, We counted our wagers with glee, A simile homely to borrow 'There was plenty of milk in our tea.' You see we were green; and we never Had even a thought of foul play, Though we well might have known that the clever Division would 'put us away'. Experience 'docet', they tell us, At least so I've frequently heard, But, 'dosing' or 'stuffing', those fellows Were up to each move on the board: They got to his stall it is sinful To think what such villains would do And they gave him a regular skinful Of barley green barley to chew. He munched it all night, and we found him Next morning as full as a hog The girths wouldn't nearly meet round him; He looked like an overfed frog. We saw we were done like a dinner The odds were a thousand to one Against Pardon turning up winner, 'Twas cruel to ask him to run. We got to the course with our troubles, A crestfallen couple were we; And we heard the 'books' calling the doubles A roar like the surf of the sea; And over the tumult and louder Rang 'Any price Pardon, I lay!' Says Jimmy, 'The children of Judah Are out on the warpath to-day.' Three miles in three heats: Ah, my sonny, The horses in those days were stout, They had to run well to win money; I don't see such horses about. Your six-furlong vermin that scamper Half-a-mile with their feather-weight up; They wouldn't earn much of their damper In a race like the President's Cup. The first heat was soon set a-going; The Dancer went off to the front; The Don on his quarters was showing, With Pardon right out of the hunt. He rolled and he weltered and wallowed You'd kick your hat faster, I'll bet; They finished all bunched, and he followed All lathered and dripping with sweat. But troubles came thicker upon us, For while we were rubbing him dry The stewards came over to warn us: 'We hear you are running a bye! If Pardon don't spiel like tarnation And win the next heat if he can He'll earn a disqualification; Just think over THAT, now, my man!' Our money all gone and our credit, Our horse couldn't gallop a yard; And then people thought that WE did it! It really was terribly hard. We were objects of mirt

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