There are some who do nicely, and some who are done there,
There are loud men with pencils and satchels and hats.
But the Stewards see nothing of betting or money,
As they stand in the blinkers for Stewards devised;
Their blindness may strike Henry Hawkins as funny,
But he only smiles softly, he isn't surprised.
So, here's to Sir Henry, the terror of tricksters,
Of Law he's a master, and likewise a limb:
His mind never once, when its purpose is fixed, errs;
For cuteness there's none holds a candle to him.