The Protest
I say ’e isn’t Remorse!
’Ow do I know?
Saw ’im on Riccarton course
Two year ago!
Think I’d forget any ’orse?
Course ’e’s The Crow!
Bumper Maginnis and I,
After a “go”,
Walkin’ our ’orses to dry,
I says, “Hello!
What’s that old black goin’ by?”
Bumper says “Oh!
That’s an old cuddy of Flanagan’s—
Runs as The Crow!”
Now they make out ’e’s Remorse.
Well, but I know.
Soon as I came on the course
I says “‘Ello!
’Ere’s the old Crow.”
Once a man’s seen any ’orse,
’Course ’e must know.
Sure as there’s wood in this table,
I say ’e’s The Crow.
(Cross-examined by the Committee.)
’Ow do I know the moke
After one sight?
S’posin’ you met a bloke
Down town at night,
Wouldn’t you know ’im again when you met ’im?
That’s ‘I’m all right!
What was the brand on ’is ‘ide?
I couldn’t say,
Brands can be transmogrified.
That ain’t the way—
It’s the look of a ’orse and the way that ’e moves
That I’d know any day.
What was the boy on ’is back?
Why, ’e went past
All of a minute, and off down the track.
—“The ’orse went as fast?”
True, so ’e did! But, my eyes, what a treat!
’Ow can I notice the ’ands and the seat
Of each bumble-faced kid of a boy that I meet?
Lor’! What a question to ast!
(Protest dismissed.)