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Song IX. SHEFFIELD RACES. No. 1.
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11

Song IX. SHEFFIELD RACES. No. 1.

Misers may stay with their treasure,
Who eagerly mammon embraces;
This is the season of pleasure,
Come lasses and lads to the races.
Johny to treat his fair
Has just drawn part of his wages;
Harry and Ruth, this year,
Are come to renew their ages.

CHORUS.

John, with his old gray mare,
As hard as he could pelt her,
Yesterday came to the fair,
To see them helter-skelter.
Dolly, that crooked old woman,
Who was sister to full-breasted Mary,
Swore she would go to the common,
Conducted by splay-footed Harry,
There to meet sharp-shinned Dick,
And squint-ey'd Poll, with her garters;
Bandy legg'd Ralph and Mick,
Bare four feet five and three-quarters.

CHORUS.

Roger came driving Kate,
A pace enough to melt her,
Fearing they should be too late
To see them helter-skelter.
See, now they go off with a clatter,
The horse that can win it shall wear it,
Jockeys well versed in the matter
Exert their whole power to clear it;
With shouts that rend the sky
And put to a consternation
Numbers of birds that fly
And part of the brute creation.