“Them’s The Sugarloaf O’Briens in the Old Mass Shandrydan.”
We were first to Carey’s Crossing, first to reach Moloney’s Mill,
But the opposition caught us as we laboured up the hill;
Then the air became electric as they tried to pass us by,
For “Himself” for family reasons (which I needn’t specify)
Kept the road in deadly earnest, and would never seem to hear
The abuse of the procession that was gathering in the rear.
Oh, they whistled and they shouted till their feelings overflowed,
But the old man in the Dreadnought was the master of the road.
It was suicide to bump it, and the horses wouldn’t shy,