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Poem by Marriott Edgar Sam’s Racehorse When Sam Small retired from the Army He’d a pension of ninepence a day, And seven pounds fourteen and twopence He’d saved from his rations and pay. He knew this ’ere wasn’t a fortune, But reckoned with prudence and care He’d find some investment to save him From hard work and things like that there. He thought he’d invest in a race orse, As apart from excitement and fun He’d be able to sit down in comfort And live on the money he won. He knew buying ’orses was tricky, But that didn’t daunt him at all; He said ”They must rise early ’t mornin As wants to play tricks on Sam Small!” When he called on the local ’Orse-dealer Surprise rooted him to the spot, For he found ’twere his old Comp’ny Sergeant, Whose kindness he’d never forgot. ’Twere a happy reunion on both sides, Their pleasure at meeting was great, For each hoped to diddle the other And wipe a few grudges off slate. The Sergeant brought out his race ’orses, For which he asked various sums; They hadn’t a tooth left between them, But Sam knew their age by their gums. Sam studied their lines and deportment As Sergeant were trotting them round, And told him he reckoned their value Were fourpence, per race ’orse, per pound. Now the Sarg. had a filly called Buster As he hadn’t said nothing about, But when Sam turned his nose up at t’others He thought as he’d best trot her out. Sam were struck with her youthful appearance, Though there wasn’t much light in the place, For her teeth were all pearly and even And there wasn’t a line on her face. The Sergeant asked Sam twenty guineas, But Sam, who were up to his tricks, Pretended he thought he’d said shillings And offered him eighteen and six. In the end he paid eight guineas for her, And when he’d got home with the goods He reckoned he’d not done so badly, For three of the guineas was duds. But later, when he thought it over, A doubt through his mind seemed to creep, If Buster were all she were painted, Why the Sergeant had sold her so cheap. He very soon found out the answer When he looked at her close in her stall, She’d the marks where her face had been lifted And a mouth full of false teeth an’ all. The little walk home had fatigued her And the cold air had started her cough; Sam reckoned he’d best see the Sergeant And tell him the bargain was off. The place were locked up when he got there, And he realized Sergeant had bunked, So back he went home in a dudgeon And found Buster lying-defunct. Sam knew if he wanted to sell her He mustn’t let on she were dead, So he raffled her down at the Darts Club- Forty members at five bob a head. The raffle were highly successful, They all came in every man jack And so’s winner’d have no cause to grumble Sam gave him his five shillings back. Marriott Edgar Marriott Edgar's other poems: 1186 Views |
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