Редьярд Киплинг (Rudyard Kipling)

Ichabod

1 

Get a nervous lady's pony—get the oldest you can find—
Strap an ulster on the pommel—tie a bedding-roll behind;
To a Hanoverian Pelham hitch a standing martingale—
Then hang upon his jaws, my son, and listen to my tale.

2 

Many ages since, my infant, we were green as Dehra grass,
Though we lacked the shining silver we were millionaires in brass;
And we gathered at Umballa when the 'seventies' were low,
And we rode like Helen Blazes in the days of long ago.

3 

Those were times when life went swiftly both for rider and for horse—
When we sampled with our clavicles the texture of the course;
For the Stewards built the fences up to five-foot six or so,
And we 'pecked' about those ramparts in the days of long ago.

4 

Answer, man of many fractures, William Beresford—Give ear.
'Bertie'; sweltering in Calcutta, Johnston, Humphreys, Percy Vere,
Did you fill these yawning ditches? Did you lay the railings low,
On the old Umballa race-course in the days of long ago?

5 

Yea the ditches filled aforetime; but they filled with wrathful men!
Yea the railings were demolished by a bolter now and then!
More than once the 'well-bushed fences' sloped before the staggering blow
Of a puller, gazing skyward, in the days of long ago.

6 

There was litter—lots of litter—spread about 'the landing side'
When a blown and basted leader checked his last half-hearted stride,
And the ruck came up behind him—and they made a holy show
On the old Umballa race-course in the days of long ago.

7 

Many ages since, my infant, we were green as Dehra grass;
We were guileless as the morning—but we knew what riding was.
But a newer generation seem to make the pace more slow
Than we made it at Umballa in the days of long ago.

8 

To an iron-bound ring-saddle nail a safety stirrup; then
Stitch a four-foot sofa-cushion just across your abdomen.
With a length of double stove-pipe guard your neck in case it breaks,
And—enter at Umballa, for the Military Stakes!