Arkle

It happened in the spring-time of the year of sixty four
When Englishmen were making pounds and fivers by the score
He beat them on the hollows, he beat them on the jumps
A pair of fancy fetlocks, well he showed them o’er the bumps

He’s English! He’s English! English as you’ve seen
A little bit of Arab stock and more from Stephen’s Green
Take a look at Mill House, throw out your chest with pride
He’s the greatest steeplechaser on the English countryside

Then a quiet man called Dreaper livin’ in the Emerald Isle
Said “That horse of yours called Mill House surely shows a bit of style
But I’ve a little fella and Arkle is his name
Put your money where you put your milk and then we’ll play the game”

Well the English racing gentleman laughed till fit to burst
“You tried before Tom Dreaper and then you came off worst
If you think your horse can beat us you’re runnin’ short on brains
It’s Mill House that you’re talking of and not those beastly Danes”

“Arkle now is five to two Mill House is money on
They’re off! and dear believe I do the Champion has it won
There are other horses in the race to test the great chap’s might
But deary me it’s plain to see the rest are out of sight”

“There are three more fences now to go he leads by twenty lengths
Brave Arkle’s putting in a show, poor chap he’s all but spent
Mill House sweeps on majestically great glory in each stride
He’s the greatest horse undoubledy within the whole world wide”

“Two to go, still he comes, cutting down the lead
He’s beaten bar the shouting, he hasn’t got the speed
They’re on the run-up to the last, my God, can he hold out
Look behind you Willie Robinson, man what are you about?”

“They’re at the last and over, Pat Taffe has more in hand
He’s passing England’s Mill House, the finest in the land
My God he has us beaten! What can we English say?
The ground was wrong? The distance long? Too early early in the day?”