Andrew Barton Paterson

The Wargeilah Handicap

Wargeilah town is very small, 
There’s no cathedral nor a club, 
In fact the township, all in all, 
Is just one unpretentious pub; 
And there, from all the stations round, 
The local sportsmen can be found. 

The sportsmen of Wargeilah-side 
Are very few but very fit; 
There’s scarcely any sport been tried 
But they can hold their own at it; 
In fact, to search their records o’er, 
They hold their own and something more. 

The precincts of Wargeilah town 
An English new-chum did infest: 
He used to wander up and down 
In baggy English breeches drest; 
His mental aspect seemed to be 
Just stolid self-sufficiency. 

The local sportsmen vainly sought 
His tranquil calm to counteract 
By urging that he should be brought 
Within the Noxious Creatures Act. 
”Nay, harm him not,” said one more wise, 
”He is a blessing in disguise! 

”You see, he wants to buy a horse, 
To ride, and hunt, and steeplechase, 
And carry ladies, too, of course, 
And pull a cart, and win a race. 
Good gracious! he must be a flat 
To think he’ll get a horse like that! 

”But, since he has so little sense 
And such a lot of cash to burn, 
We’ll sell him some experience 
By which alone a fool can learn. 
Suppose we let him have The Trap 
To win Wargeilah Handicap!” 

And her, I must explain to you 
That round about Wargeilah run 
There lived a very aged screw 
Whose days of brilliancy were done. 
A grand old warrior in his prime -- 
But age will beat us any time. 

A trooper’s horse in seasons past 
He did his share to keep the peace, 
But took to falling, and at last 
Was cast for age from the Police. 
A publican at Conroy’s Gap 
Bought him and christened him The Trap. 

When grass was good and horses dear, 
He changed his owner now and then 
At prices ranging somewhere near 
The neighbourhood of two-pound-ten: 
And manfully he earned his keep 
By yarding cows and ration sheep. 

They brought him in from off the grass 
And fed and groomed the old horse up; 
His coat began to shine like glass -- 
You’d think he’d win the Melbourne Cup. 
And when they’d got him fat and flash 
They asked the new chum -- fifty -- cash! 

And when he said the price was high, 
Their indignation knew no bounds. 
They said, ”It’s seldom you can buy 
A horse like that for fifty pounds! 
We’ll refund twenty if The Trap 
Should fail to win the handicap!” 

The deed was done, the price was paid, 
The new-chum put the horse in train. 
The local sports were much afraid 
That he would sad experience gain 
By racing with some shearer’s hack, 
Who’d beat him half-way round the track. 

So, on this guileless English spark 
They did most fervently impress 
That he must keep the matter dark, 
And not let any person guess 
That he was purchasing The Trap 
To win Wargeilah Handicap. 

They spoke of ”spielers from the Bland”, 
And ”champions from the Castlereagh”, 
And gave the youth to understand 
That all of these would stop away, 
And spoil the race, if they should hear 
That they had got The Trap to fear. 

”Keep dark! They’ll muster thick as flies 
When once the news gets sent around 
We’re giving such a splendid prize -- 
A Snowdon horse worth fifty pound! 
They’ll come right in from Dandaloo, 
And find -- that it’s a gift for you!” 

The race came on -- with no display 
Nor any calling of the card, 
But round about the pub all day 
A crowd of shearers, drinking hard, 
And using language in a strain 
’Twere flattery to call profane. 

Our hero, dressed in silk attire -- 
Blue jacket and scarlet cap -- 
With boots that shone like flames of fire, 
Now did his canter on The Trap, 
And walked him up and round about, 
Until other steeds came out. 

He eyed them with a haughty look, 
But saw a sight that caught his breath! 
It was Ah John! the Chinee cook! 
In boots and breeches! pale as death! 
Tied with a rope, like any sack, 
Upon a piebald pony’s back! 

The next, a colt -- all mud and burrs, 
Half-broken, with a black boy up, 
Who said, ”You gim’me pair o’ spurs, 
I win the bloomin’ Melbourne Cup!” 
These two were to oppose The Trap 
For the Wargeilah Handicap! 

They’re off! The colt whipped down his head, 
And humped his back, and gave a squeal, 
And bucked into the drinking shed, 
Revolving like a Catherine wheel! 
Men ran like rats! The atmosphere 
Was filled with oaths and pints of beer! 

But up the course the bold Ah John 
Beside The Trap raced neck and neck: 
The boys had tied him firmly on, 
Which ultimately proved his wreck; 
The saddle turned, and, like a clown, 
He rode some distance upside-down. 

His legs around the horse were tied, 
His feet towards the heavens were spread, 
He swung and bumped at every stride 
And ploughed the ground up with his head! 
And when they rescued him, The Trap 
Had won Wargeilah Handicap! 

And no enquiries we could make 
Could tell by what false statements swayed 
Ah John was led to undertake 
A task so foreign to his trade! 
He only smiled and said, ”Hoo Ki! 
I stop topside, I win all li’!” 

But never in Wargeilah Town 
Was heard so eloquent a cheer 
As when the President came down, 
And toasted, in Colonial beer, 
”The finest rider on the course! 
The winner of the Snowdon Horse! 

”You go and get your prize,” he said; 
”He’s with a wild mob, somewhere round 
The mountains near the Watershed; 
He’s honestly worth fifty pound -- 
A noble horse, indeed, to win, 
But none of us can run him in! 

”We’ve chased him poor, we’ve chased him fat, 
We’ve run him till our horses dropped; 
But by such obstacles as that 
A man like you will not be stopped; 
You’ll go and yard him any day, 
So here’s your health! Hooray! Hooray!” 

The day wound up with booze and blow 
And fights till all were well content. 
But of the new-chum all I know 
Is shown by this advertisement -- 
”For sale, the well-known racehorse Trap. 
He won Wargeilah Handicap!”