While he tells you the craft of bold Ripeforajail.
The Earl of Barepurse, o'er Newmarket doth ride,
And views his colt win in the very last stride,
Long odds for his net, and the Ring for his game,
Short whist for the wild, and the dice for the tame;
But the Tattersall gudgeons, and Crock pigeons pale,
Are less free to Earl Barepurse than Ripeforajail.
Ripeforajail, when his carcase was light,
Used to sweat and to curry a thoroughbred bright,
And when "grown overweight" the Kents turned him abroad.