He saw a burly constable, and cursed the man upon his beat,
He cursed the helmet on his head, the number on his collar, too;
He cursed the stripe upon his arm, his mittens, and his suit of blue.
He cursed his baton right and left, he cursed it also upside down,
He cursed him to the county gaol and back again, and into town.
He cursed the lining of his sleeve, a bottle in his pocket—who
Had put it there he could not tell—he cursed his aunt, her cockatoo.
He cursed the laces of his boots, the cockatoo he cursed again,
Again he swore, unlocked the door, and gaily started for the train.
Hurrah! he won the race that day, and everything for him went right,