How the Melbourne Cup was Won

In the beams of a beautiful day,     Made soft by a breeze from the sea,     The horses were started away,     The fleet-footed thirty and three;     Where beauty, with shining attire,     Shed more than a noon on the land,     Like spirits of thunder and fire     They flashed by the fence and the stand.     And the mouths of pale thousands were hushed     When Somnus, a marvel of strength,     Past Bowes like a sudden wind rushed,     And led the bay colt by a length;     But a chestnut came galloping through,     And, down where the river-tide steals,     OBrien, on brave Waterloo,     Dashed up to the big horses heels.     But Cracknell still kept to the fore,     And first by the water bend wheeled,     When a cry from the stand, and a roar     Ran over green furlongs of field;     Far out by the back of the course     A demon of muscle and pluck     Flashed onward the favourite horse,     With his hoofs flaming clear of the ruck.     But the wonderful Queenslander came,     And the thundering leaders were three;     And a ring, and a roll of acclaim,     Went out, like a surge of the sea:     An Epigram! Epigram wins!     The Colt of the Derby The bay!     But back where the crescent begins     The favourite melted away.     And the marvel that came from the North,     With another, was heavily thrown;     And here at the turning flashed forth     To the front a surprising unknown;     By shed and by paddock and gate     The strange, the magnificent black,     Led Darebin a length in the straight,     With thirty and one at his back.     But the Derby colt tired at the rails,     And Ivorys marvellous bay     Passed Burton, OBrien, and Hales,     As fleet as a flash of the day.     But Gough on the African star     Came clear in the front of his field,     Hard followed by Morrisons Czar     And the blood unaccustomed to yield.     Yes, first from the turn to the end,     With a boy on him paler than ghost,     The horse that had hardly a friend     Shot flashing like fire by the post.     When Graham was riding Twas late     For his friends to applaud on the stands,     The black, through the bend and the straight,     Had the race of the year in his hands.     In a clamour of calls and acclaim,     He landed the money the horse     With the beautiful African name,     That rang to the back of the course.     Hurrah for the Hercules race,     And the terror that came from his stall,     With the bright, the intelligent face,     To show the road home to them all!