A SONG by THOMAS D'URFEY

To Horse, brave boys of @3Newmarket,@1 to Horse,
You'll lose the Match by longer delaying;
The Gelding just now was led over the Course,
I think the Devil's in you for staying:
Run, and endeavour all to bubble the Sporters,
Bets may recover all lost at the Groom-Porters;
Follow, follow, follow, follow, come down to the Ditch,
Take the odds and then you'll be rich.

For I'll have the brown Bay, if the blew bonnet ride,
And hold a thousand Pounds of his side, Sir;
@3Dragon@1 would scow'r it, but @3Dragon@1 grows old;
He cannot endure it, he cannot, he wonnot now run it,
As lately he could:
Age, age, does hinder the Speed, Sir.

Now, now, now they come on, and see,
See the Horse lead the way still;
Three lengths before at the turning the Lands,
Five hundred Pounds upon the brown Bay still:
Pox on the Devil, I fear we have lost,
For the Dog, the @3Blue Bonnet@1, has run it,
A Plague light upon it,
The wrong side the Post;
Odszounds, was ever such Fortune.

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