He won the race by half a length -- _QUITE_ half a length, it seemed to me -- But Dandaloo, with all its strength, Roared out 'Dead heat!' most fervently; And, after hesitation meet, The judge's verdict was 'Dead heat!'
And many men there were could tell What gave the verdict extra force: The stewards, and the judge as well -- They all had backed the second horse. For things like this they sometimes do In larger towns than Dandaloo.
They ran it off; the stranger won, Hands down, by near a hundred yards He smiled to think his troubles done; But Dandaloo held all the cards. They went to scale and -- cruel fate! -- His jockey turned out under-weight.
Perhaps they'd tampered with the scale! I cannot tell. I only know It weighed him _OUT_ all right. I fail To paint that Sydney sportsman's woe. He said the stewards were a crew Of low-lived thieves in Dandaloo.
He lifted up his voice, irate, And swore till all the air was blue; So then we rose to vindicate The dignity of Dandaloo. 'Look here,' said we, 'you must not poke Such oaths at us poor country folk.'
We rode him softly on a rail, We shied at him, in careless glee, Some large tomatoes, rank and stale, And eggs of great antiquity -- Their wild, unholy fragrance flew About the town of Dandaloo.
He left the town at break of day, He led his race-horse through the streets, And now he tells the tale, they say, To every racing man he meets. And Sydney sportsmen all eschew The atmosphere of Dandaloo.
It was somewhere up the country, in a land of rock and scrub, That they formed an institution called the Geebung Polo Club. They were long and wiry natives from the rugged mountain side, And the horse was never saddled that the Geebungs couldn't ride; But their style of playing polo was irregular and rash -- They had mighty little science, but a mighty lot of dash: And they played on mountain ponies that were muscular and strong, Though their coats were quite unpolished, and their manes and tails were long. And they used to train those ponies wheeling cattle in the scrub: They were demons, were the members of the Geebung Polo Club.
It was somewhere down the country, in a city's smoke and steam, That a polo club existed, called 'The Cuff and Collar Team'. As a social institution 'twas a marvellous success, For the members were distinguished by exclusiveness and dress. They had natty little ponies that were nice, and smooth, and sleek, For their cultivated owners only rode 'em once a week. So they started up the country in pursuit of sport and fame, For they meant to show the Geebungs how they ought to play the game; And they took their valets with them -- just to give their boots a rub Ere they started operations on the Geebung Polo Club.