With theirs on th’ Immortal Scroll?
And would’nt my mother be happy
When she heard of her famous foal.
I remember as clear as a picture
The start for that famous race,
I shot to the front like an arrow,
Making a desperate pace,
In the straight another horse joined me,
Galloping, stride for stride,
Whing went the whip thro’ the air to my flank—