How We Beat The Favourite - A Lay Of The Loamshire Hunt Cup Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB CDCD EFDF GHIJ CDCD KLEL MNEN OIEI PDOD QRSR PBTB PUCU PPDP CVPV CWHW CDPD CECE DOPO CKSK DPCP CXPX DHOH COIO BYIY PZA2Z| Aye squire said Stevens they back him at evens | A |
| The race is all over bar shouting they say | B |
| The Clown ought to beat her Dick Neville is sweeter | C |
| Than ever he swears he can win all the way | B |
| - | |
| A gentleman rider well I'm an outsider | C |
| But if he's a gent who the mischief's a jock | D |
| You swells mostly blunder Dick rides for the plunder | C |
| He rides too like thunder he sits like a rock | D |
| - | |
| He calls 'hunted fairly' a horse that has barely | E |
| Been stripp'd for a trot within sight of the hounds | F |
| A horse that at Warwick beat Birdlime and Yorick | D |
| And gave Abdelkader at Aintree nine pounds | F |
| - | |
| They say we have no test to warrant a protest | G |
| Dick rides for a lord and stands in with a steward | H |
| The light of their faces they show him his case is | I |
| Prejudged and his verdict already secured | J |
| - | |
| But none can outlast her and few travel faster | C |
| She strides in her work clean away from The Drag | D |
| You hold her and sit her she couldn't be fitter | C |
| Whenever you hit her she'll spring like a stag | D |
| - | |
| And p'rhaps the green jacket at odds though they back it | K |
| May fall or there's no knowing what may turn up | L |
| The mare is quite ready sit still and ride steady | E |
| Keep cool and I think you may just win the Cup | L |
| - | |
| Dark brown with tan muzzle just stripped for the tussle | M |
| Stood Iseult arching her neck to the curb | N |
| A lean head and fiery strong quarters and wiry | E |
| A loin rather light but a shoulder superb | N |
| - | |
| Some parting injunction bestowed with great unction | O |
| I tried to recall but forgot like a dunce | I |
| When Reginald Murray full tilt on White Surrey | E |
| Came down in a hurry to start us at once | I |
| - | |
| Keep back in the yellow Come up on Othello | P |
| Hold hard on the chestnut Turn round on The Drag | D |
| Keep back there on Spartan Back you sir in tartan | O |
| So steady there easy and down went the flag | D |
| - | |
| We started and Kerr made strong running on Mermaid | Q |
| Through furrows that led to the first stake and bound | R |
| The crack half extended look'd bloodlike and splendid | S |
| Held wide on the right where the headland was sound | R |
| - | |
| I pulled hard to baffle her rush with the snaffle | P |
| Before her two thirds of the field got away | B |
| All through the wet pasture where floods of the last year | T |
| Still loitered they clotted my crimson with clay | B |
| - | |
| The fourth fence a wattle floor'd Monk and Bluebottle | P |
| The Drag came to grief at the blackthorn and ditch | U |
| The rails toppled over Redoubt and Red Rover | C |
| The lane stopped Lycurgus and Leicestershire Witch | U |
| - | |
| She passed like an arrow Kildare and Cock Sparrow | P |
| And Mantrap and Mermaid refused the stone wall | P |
| And Giles on The Greyling came down at the paling | D |
| And I was left sailing in front of them all | P |
| - | |
| I took them a burster nor eased her nor nursed her | C |
| Until the Black Bullfinch led into the plough | V |
| And through the strong bramble we bored with a scramble | P |
| My cap was knock'd off by the hazel tree bough | V |
| - | |
| Where furrows looked lighter I drew the rein tighter | C |
| Her dark chest all dappled with flakes of white foam | W |
| Her flanks mud bespattered a weak rail she shattered | H |
| We landed on turf with our heads turn'd for home | W |
| - | |
| Then crash'd a low binder and then close behind her | C |
| The sward to the strokes of the favourite shook | D |
| His rush roused her mettle yet ever so little | P |
| She shortened her stride as we raced at the brook | D |
| - | |
| She rose when I hit her I saw the stream glitter | C |
| A wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee | E |
| Between sky and water The Clown came and caught her | C |
| The space that he cleared was a caution to see | E |
| - | |
| And forcing the running discarding all cunning | D |
| A length to the front went the rider in green | O |
| A long strip of stubble and then the big double | P |
| Two stiff flights of rails with a quickset between | O |
| - | |
| She raced at the rasper I felt my knees grasp her | C |
| I found my hands give to her strain on the bit | K |
| She rose when The Clown did our silks as we bounded | S |
| Brush'd lightly our stirrups clash'd loud as we lit | K |
| - | |
| A rise steeply sloping a fence with stone coping | D |
| The last we diverged round the base of the hill | P |
| His path was the nearer his leap was the clearer | C |
| I flogg'd up the straight and he led sitting still | P |
| - | |
| She came to his quarter and on still I brought her | C |
| And up to his girth to his breastplate she drew | X |
| A short prayer from Neville just reach'd me The devil | P |
| He mutter'd lock'd level the hurdles we flew | X |
| - | |
| A hum of hoarse cheering a dense crowd careering | D |
| All sights seen obscurely all shouts vaguely heard | H |
| The green wins The crimson The multitude swims on | O |
| And figures are blended and features are blurr'd | H |
| - | |
| The horse is her master The green forges past her | C |
| The Clown will outlast her The Clown wins The Clown | O |
| The white railing races with all the white faces | I |
| The chestnut outpaces outstretches the brown | O |
| - | |
| On still past the gateway she strains in the straightway | B |
| Still struggles The Clown by a short neck at most | Y |
| He swerves the green scourges the stand rocks and surges | I |
| And flashes and verges and flits the white post | Y |
| - | |
| Aye so ends the tussle I knew the tan muzzle | P |
| Was first though the ring men were yelling Dead heat | Z |
| A nose I could swear by but Clarke said The mare by | A2 |
| A short head And that's how the favourite was beat | Z |
Adam Lindsay Gordon
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About How We Beat The Favourite - A Lay Of The Loamshire Hunt Cup
How We Beat The Favourite - A Lay Of The Loamshire Hunt Cup is a poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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