An’ ’e’ll never be nearer death than ’e was
Some fifteen years ago.
’Twas the day o’ the point to point races,
They was over at Braeburn that year,
Twenty mile from our ’ouse to the course, sir,
And there wasn’t no railway near.
We ’ad taken old Snowflake over
To go in the Lightweight race;
The Squire ’e rode ’im ’isself, sir,
An’ lor ’e did make the pace.