 | May Fair |  |
Yet, spite of all their Worships' ears,
Newmarket, thou'rt the place for Peers.
No Epsom, throng'd with city feeders—
No Doncaster, all brutes and breeders.
There Taste on all things sets her seal;
With elegance the hostlers steal;
The man that pillages your fob
But hoaxes—none would call it, rob;
The Jockey, in his speech and look,
Seems the first cousin to the Duke;
The rogue who tricks you to your face
Looks more than brother to his Grace;
And many a claimant of a cord
Passes for Baronet and Lord.
Newmarket, thou'rt the place for Peers.
No Epsom, throng'd with city feeders—
No Doncaster, all brutes and breeders.
There Taste on all things sets her seal;
With elegance the hostlers steal;
92
But hoaxes—none would call it, rob;
The Jockey, in his speech and look,
Seems the first cousin to the Duke;
The rogue who tricks you to your face
Looks more than brother to his Grace;
And many a claimant of a cord
Passes for Baronet and Lord.
| May Fair | |