Ballad of the Sorrel Mare

“I tell you there is somethin’ else

Besides four legs an’ hair,

An’ ol’ stub tail an’ a back to whale,

In that ol’ sorrel mare!”

So said Seth Gray on a summer’s day,

     With a deep myster’us air.

Seth Gray he warn’t no jockey an’ he warn’t no trader, too,

Jest lived a quiet country life as farmers ought to do;

But Seth had got a queer idee in his peculiar brain,

That there was speed in his old mare an’ that she’d orter train.

So unbeknownst to anyone he took her ev’ry day

Down in the lot behind his barn, hid from the great highway,

An’ put her through a course of sprints until she got a pace

That brought a sly myster’us smile upon her owner’s face.

He took a pair of forrud wheels from his ol’ runabout,

An’ made another pair of thills to lengthen matters out;

Then nailed a soapbox good an’ stout upon the axle tree,

An’ there he had a racin’ gig as fine as fine could be.

He fed the ol’ mare corn an’ oats an’ rubbed her down each day,

An’ talked to her an’ wont her heart in his soft soapin’ way;

An’ then the way she’d go around that lot was fun to see,

An’ Seth he kept it to himself an’ shook himself with glee.

Now by an’ by the County Fair was opened big an’ wide,

An’ ev’rybuddy was on deck from o’er the countryside;

The maidens in their furbelous, bright hose an’ high-heeled boots,

The swains with extry big cravats, and brand new city suits.

The band was playin’ all the airs from “Yankee Doodle” down,

An’ ev’ryone was steppin’ high from in an’ out of town.

The big event fur afternoon was bound to be the race,

An’ there was great expectancy on each impatient face.

At last the teams come on the field an’ lined up for the start,

Each hoss a-chafin’ at his bits, all primed to do his part;

When Seth, with his sorrel mare, appeared with all the rest,

The crowd let loose an’ greeted him with merriment an’ jest.

An’ Seth took off his cap an’ bowed, an’ pulled it dow ag’in,

An’ all the while exhibited a most myster’us grin.

An’ when the shot was fired he gave the sorrel mare a whack

That sent her off with sech a jump he most went over back.

The crowd jest whooped an’ hollered loud at Seth’s ol’ sorrel mare,

But by an’ by she struck a gait that made ‘em stop an’ stare;

She dug right in an’ inch by inch she led ‘em one by one,

An’ Seth he larruped her with words the like he’d never done.

Around an’ round the field they went, the soap box in the lead,

The other fellers hammerin’ their nags fur extra speed!

Once more, an’ if the sorrel mare could only hold her pace,

Was ten to one that ol’ Seth Gray would win the county race.

The crowd broke out an’ yelled again, an’ stood upon its feet,

Expectin’ now, an’ hopin’ too, the sorrel mare would beat.

The home stretch now whipped into view, they all leaned forrud fine

To give each hoss a better show to reach the finish line.

Half way – Seth still two lengths ahead – then somethin’ dropped, alack!

Some fiend in human form threw out a turnip on the track.

She stopped an’ made a grab, an’ Seth went flyin’ out through space –

An’ that was how the sorrel mare lost Seth the county race!

“I’ll tell you where I erred,” said Seth,

      When he could talk next day,

“I shouldn’t hev gone an’ fed her corn,

      An’ nothin’ else I say;

If I’d fed her turnips instead

      She wouldn’t hev stopped that way.”

May 14, ‘09