The year forty-four is the height of her fame,
Her trainer, Bob Hesseltine, joys in her name,
Her master has reaped a good harvest this year,
And swift Alice Hawthorn to Salvin[249] is dear.
At York the Queen's Hundred she then bore away,
And proved herself fairly the crack of the day,
The Yorkers stood gaping and praising the mare,
And Alice! brave Alice! rung loud in the air.
At Lewes she won the Queen's Plate in grand style,
And her rider gazed on the old mare with a smile,