And if the luck chances we’ll gather some gear;
But never a jockey
Will win it, my cocky,
Who catches one glance from a girl I know there.
There’s lords and there’s ladies
Wi’ pretty sunshadies,
And farmers and jossers and fat men and small;
But the pride of these trips is
The scallywag gipsies
Wi’ not a whole rag to the backs of ’em all.