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You gallant sportsmen all, come listen to my story |
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It's of the bold Skewball, that noble racing pony |
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Arthur Marvel was the man that brought bold Skewball over |
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He's the diamond of the land and he rolls about in clover. |
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The horses were brought out with saddle, whip and bridle |
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And the gentlemen did shout when they saw the noble riders |
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And some did shout hurray, the air was thick with curses |
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And on the grey Griselda the sportsmen laid their purses. |
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The trumpet it did sound, they shot off like an arrow |
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They scarcely touched the ground for the going it was narrow |
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Then Griselda passed him by and the gentlemen did holler |
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The grey will win the day and Skewball he will follow. |
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Then halfway 'round the course up spoke the noble rider |
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I fear we must fall back for she's going like a tiger |
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Up spoke the noble horse, ride on my noble master |
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For we're half way round the course and now we'll see who's faster. |
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And when they did discourse, bold Skewball flew like lightning |
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They chased around the course and the grey mare she was taken |
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Ride on my noble lord, for the good two hundred guineas |
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The saddle shall be of gold when we pick up our winnings. |
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Past the winning post, bold Skewball proved quite handy |
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And horse and rider both ordered sherry, wine and brandy |
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And then they drank a health unto Miss Griselda |
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And all that lost their money on the sporting plains of Kildare. |
