You’d ’a thought he was goin’ four furlongs,
Instead of a good four miles
Over walls an’ brooks an’ oxers
An’ five barred gates an’ stiles:
’Ad it been any other ’orse, sir,
’E wouldn’t ’a got ’alf way
At the orful pace they was goin’,
But Snowflake was one to stay.
’E sailed past the post at the finish,
A street in front o’ the rest,