  W HILE Brownies moved around one night A seaside race-track came in sight. "'T is here," said one, "the finest breed Of horses often show their speed; Here, neck and neck, and nose and nose, Beneath the jockeys' urging blows, They sweep around the level mile The people shouting all the while; And climbing up or crowding through To gain a better point of view, So they can see beyond a doubt How favorites are holding out." Another said: "I know the place Where horses wait to-morrow's race; We'll strap the saddles on their back, And lead them out upon the track. Then some will act the jockey's part, And some, as judges, watch the start, And drop the crimson flag to show The start is fair and all must go." Ere long, the Brownies turned to haul Each wondering race-horse from his stall. They bridled them without delay, And saddles strapped in proper way. Some restless horses rearing there Would toss their holders high in air, And test the courage and the art Of those who took an active part. Said one: "I've lurked in yonder wood, And watched the races when I could. I know how all is done with care When thus for racing they prepare; How every buckle must be tight, And every strap and stirrup right, Or jockeys would be on the ground Before they circled half way round." When all was ready for the show Each Brownie rogue was nowise slow At climbing up to take a place And be a jockey in the race. Full half a dozen Brownies tried Upon one saddle now to ride; But some were into service pressed As judges to control the rest— To see that rules were kept complete, And then decide who won the heat. A dozen times they tried to start; Some shot ahead like jockeys smart, And were prepared to take the lead Around the track at flying speed. But others were so far behind, On horses of unruly mind, The judges from the stand declare The start was anything but fair. So back they'd jog at his command, In better shape to pass the stand. Indeed it was no simple trick To ride those horses, shy and quick, And only for the mystic art That is the Brownies' special part, A dozen backs, at least, had found A resting-place upon the ground. The rules of racing were not quite Observed in full upon that night. Around and round the track they flew, In spite of all the judge could do. The race, he tried to let them know, Had been decided long ago. But still the horses kept the track, With Brownies clinging to each back. Some racers of the jumping kind At times disturbed the riders' mind When from the track they sudden wheeled, And over fences took the field, As if they hoped in some such mode To rid themselves of half their load. But horses, howsoever smart, Are not a match for Brownie art, For still the riders stuck through all, In spite of fence, or ditch, or wall. Some clung to saddle, some to mane, While others tugged at bridle rein. So all the steeds found it would pay To let the Brownies have their way, Until a glimpse of rising sun Soon made them leave the place and run. |
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