This morning’s hard labor have come to a close,
As you sort out your tack and clean up the floors.
Your horses are shining, clipped, looking bright,
Plaits neat and tidy, with tails, pulled in tight.
Your shirts they hang neatly, with stocks, starched white.
Stock pins at the ready, boots shiny and bright,
Your whiskey flask’s full and a biscuit each too.
Is your head still feeling fuzzy, from last night’s late brew?
You walk around the corner and into the yard,
it’s definitely cooler and the grounds pretty hard.
There’s no time to waste though, you go and prepare,
We need to get a move on or we’ll never get there!
Your man starts the engine you hear it roar.
Your horses they’re fidgeting awaiting to go.
You close the partitions, horses are held in place
Lifting up the ramp now, You call, We must make haste!
You reach the opening meet, your the first ones to arrive,
But soon, along come others who park on either side.
You make sure you’re looking tidy as you turn to sort his stock.
You’d noticed as he drove you down, it wasn’t straight enough.
You go and check your horses, then remove their rugs with care,
First, you help your partner mount, as he’s still looking worse for wear,
You’re both on board, hats on tight and ready to move off,
Along the drive and through a gate and out into the ruff.
It’s getting very busy as everyone on time.
The Spirit Cup is flowing Is everyone doing fine.
Then around the corner comes the huntsman and his hounds
He blows his horn and leads the way up through those whines and fields of hay.
Then suddenly a scent is found and the hounds, they’re off!!
There’s no one else, left around.