But the half-broken colt was a racehorse! He lay down to work with a will,
Flashed through the scrub like a clean-skin --
by Heavens we FLEW down the hill!
Over a twenty-foot gully he swept with the spring of a deer
And they fired as we jumped, but they missed me --
a bullet sang close to my ear --
And the jump gained us ground, for they shirked it:
but I saw as we raced through the gap
That the rails at the homestead were fastened --
I was caught like a rat in a trap.
Fenced with barbed wire was the paddock --
barbed wire that would cut like a knife --
How was a youngster to clear it that never had jumped in his life?
Bang went a rifle behind me -- the colt gave a spring, he was hit;
Straight at the sliprails I rode him -- I felt him take hold of the bit;
Never a foot to the right or the left did he swerve in his stride,
Awkward and frightened, but honest, the sort it's a pleasure to ride!
Straight at the rails, where they'd fastened
barbed wire on the top of the post,
Rose like a stag and went over, with hardly a scratch at the most;
Into the homestead I darted, and snatched down my gun from the wall,
And I tell you I made them step lively, Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall!
Yes! There's the mark of the bullet -- he's got it inside of him yet
Mixed up somehow with his victuals, but bless you he don't seem to fret!
Gluttonous, ugly, and lazy -- eats any thing he can bite;
Now, let us shut up the stable, and bid the old fellow good-night:
Ah! We can't breed 'em, the sort that were bred when we old 'uns were young.
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