Now is the season of Carnival.
Who's for the sunlit course?
Who's for the beat of galloping feet
And the day and the way of the horse?
Who joins the dance, tho' Lady Chance
Pleasure or pain may yield,
Who comes to the call of Carnival?
'Seven to four the field!'

This is the week of the Carnival
And the sign of a brighter dawn
In men's affairs. Who sheds old cares
Where gay frocks fleck the lawn?
Who would forget old days of fret?
Who comes to the call of mirth
And the conquering steeds? ... They're off! Who leads?
And the hoof beats spurn the earth.

Then, Hi! for the height of Carnival,
Gayer than all gone past:
And the nameless fears of the deadening years
Forsake men's minds at last.
Bright jackets flash beneath the sun
As the roar of the crowd begins,
And lifts and swells at a great home run:
'Who leads? Who lasts? Who wins?'

Ho! for the call of Carnival!
Way for the Sport of Kings!
And men, grown sane, turn once again
To all that high hope brings.
Who's for the Carnival? Who grows gay
Where galloping Fortune speeds
Around the turn to gallop our way
With the galloping, galloping steeds?