With steady pace and fashionable swing,
Are seen young sprigs of fortune gaily dress’d,
To lounge an hour in the betting ring.
Beneath yon gateway, Tattersall’s fam’d yard,
Where nags are bought and sold both strong and fleet,
Each with the betting book, and pencil hard,
The legs and sporting men are wont to meet.
Oft does the betting to their cunning yield,
Their craft has many a fav’rite horse thrown back
Then knowingly at odds they back the field,