A Post-Cup Tale Poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

A Post-Cup Tale

Rating: 2.9


I'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair dinkum! Right there, by the stand.
I tole me wife at breakfus' time,
Straight out: 'Trivalve,' I sez 'is prime.
Trivalve,' I sez. An', all the week,
I swear ther's no one 'eard me speak
Another 'orse's name. Why, look,
I 'ad the oil straight from a Book
On Sund'y at me cousin's place
When we was torkin' of the race.
'Trivalve,' 'e sez. ''Is chance is grand.'
I 'ad the money in me 'and!

Fair in me 'and I 'ad the dough!
An' then a man 'as got to go -
Wot? Tough? Look, if I 'adn't met
Jim Smith (I ain't forgave 'im yet)
'E takes an' grabs me be the coat.
'Trivalve?' 'e sez. 'Ar, turn it up!
'Ow could 'e win a flamin'Cup?'
Of course, I thort 'e muster knoo.
'Im livin' near a trainer, too.

Right 'ere, like that, fair in me fist
I 'ad the notes! An' then I missed -
Missed like a mug fair on the knock
Becos 'is maggin' done me block.
'That airy goat?' 'e sez. 'E's crook!'
Fair knocked me back, 'e did. An' look,
I 'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair in me paw! An', un'erstand,
Sixes at least I coulder got -
Thirty to five, an' made a pot.
Today I mighter been reel rich
Rollin' in dough! Instid o' which,
'Ere's me - Aw! Don't it beat the band?
I 'AD THE MONEY IN ME 'AND!
Put me clean off, that's wot 'e did…
Say, could yeh len' us 'arf a quid?

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