DERBY DAY IN THE YUKON
Talk of England's Derby Race; of Kentucky's blue-grass chase;
Epsom Downs an' Frisco "Tanforan" t' boot;
I don't say they ain't done well, but I tell y' even h—ll
Couldn't match th' Yukon racin' malamoot.
How them dogs they love th' Race! Y' kin see it in th' face
Of th' starvin' scut that hangs aroun' th' claim;
F'r he knows, like you an' me, that th' Derby Day'll be
Th' big jag day—th' glad rag play, that brings th' Yukon fame.
It was Fool's Day f'r th' Race; every husky in his place;
Wasky's dogs was runnin' Billy Brown of Nome;
But at th' Starter's line ranged up Jake Berger's Nine,
Ten t' one they'd bring th' Derby money home!
Thousands hit th' trail that night; we was out t' see th' sight;
Th' stakes, eleven-thousand-plunks in gold!
Th' thermometer on strike—every bench-claim on th' hike——
An' them leaders b' th' leash y' couldn't hold.
Oh, th' run was cruel hard—th' white frost how it scarred
As they galloped down th' long, unending trail;
The whip cut like th' wind, an' Carey's dog, snow-blind,
Joined his howlin' t' th' screeches of th' gale.
Down where Candle's bonfires glow see th' racin' huskies go,
All keen t' win—McCarthy's purp drops dead——
He's thrown out upon th' track f'r th' lean an' hungry pack
Of grey wolves follerin' th' flyin' sled.
Two-an'-eighty hours they raced—an' four hunderd-miles they paced,
Them dogs never paused f'r frozen fish 'r drink;
Hung with icicles of foam, the'r lithe bodies stretched whale-bone,—
but they broke the record made by jimmie fink!
Cursed, an' kicked, an' whipped ahead, th' dumb brutes, staggerin', bled
Where th' whip cut cruel in; but comes th' feast
When at Nome t'morrow night there'll be brawl an' drink, an' fight;
An' no tellin' which is man an' which is beast.
Then th' dumb an' winded brute—th' blood-blinded malamoot,
All frosted foam is gaspin' upon th' bar-room floor;
He, the winner of th' race! in th' glory has no place;
He's jes' a slinkin' malamoot when Derby Day is o'er!