Mere fluke after all, though they raised a big row.
Mr. Punch. It's mostly "a fluke" when opponents go by us;
But flukes, you know, count, at the end of the game.
Trainer. Well, look at the betting! Although they decry us,
They'd like to have money on us all the same.
Their best horse is "aged," their best jockey oldish,
He's plucky, but years, Sir, will tell on the nerve.
Some of 'em who've backed him the longest grow coldish,
Whilst others do hint that he seems on the swerve.
The lot who are sweet on that leggy colt, Labour,