Sir Robert he walked beside me as I worked her down to the mark;
"There's money on this, my lad," said he, "and most of 'em's
running dark;
But ease the sheet if you're bunkered, and pack the scrummages
tight,
And use your slide at the distance, and we'll drink to your health
to-night!"
But I bent and tightened my stretcher. Said I to myself, said I--
"John Jones, this here is the Jubilee Cup, and you have to do or
die."
And the words weren't hardly spoken when the umpire shouted
"Play!"
And we all kicked off from the Gasworks End with a "Yoicks!" and a
"Gone Away!"
And at first I thought of nothing, as the clay flew by in lumps,
But stuck to the old Ruy Lopez, and wondered who'd call for trumps,
And luffed her close to the cushion, and watched each one as it
broke,
And in triple file up the Rowley Mile we went like a trail of smoke.
The Lascar made the running but he didn't amount to much,
For old Oom Paul was quick on the ball, and headed it back to touch;
And the whole first flight led off with the right as The Saint
took up the pace,
And drove it clean to the putting green and trumped it there with
an ace.
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