. Breeder and sportsman. Horses. VOL. XXJX No. 25. 36 GEARY STREET. SAN FRANCISCO, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1901. SUBSCRIPTION THREE DOLLARS A \ Pursuit and Possession. Thar's a heap uv satisfaction when a feller wins a race With a hoss uv his own breedin1; and a grin '11 crack his face When drivin' home from market (never countin' on the load), He passes friends and strangers while a brushin' on the road. Thar's a lot uv joy and glory if y'er winnin1 blues and reds When the jedges is a tyin' ribbons on the hosses1 heads, But I've often said to swains who wuz a "pressin of their suit,


. Breeder and sportsman. Horses. VOL. XXJX No. 25. 36 GEARY STREET. SAN FRANCISCO, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1901. SUBSCRIPTION THREE DOLLARS A \ Pursuit and Possession. Thar's a heap uv satisfaction when a feller wins a race With a hoss uv his own breedin1; and a grin '11 crack his face When drivin' home from market (never countin' on the load), He passes friends and strangers while a brushin' on the road. Thar's a lot uv joy and glory if y'er winnin1 blues and reds When the jedges is a tyin' ribbons on the hosses1 heads, But I've often said to swains who wuz a "pressin of their suit, Possession may be joyful, but there's raptur1 in pursoot. Written for the Breeder and Sportsman. So I go and look him over, and we get acquainted like, And I figger on his winnin's when he's hitched into a bike And starts in the Futurity; and then I guess how fast He'll have to go to win it, and whether he will last When the pace is hot and furious, and when the heats are split— And every way I figure I prove that he is "; For his sire was a winner at the show and on the track, While his dam was never headed—goin1 out or comin' back. S\ It is so with raisin' hosses, and no matter what success I hev gained on track or show ring, whether much or more or less, Thar's a time I feel a pleasure that no other time can give, And I reckon it'll be so jest so long as I shall live. It ain't when I am yellin' when my colt is in the lead As he rushes past the jedges, winnin' on his grit an' speed, But it's when in early Springtime, Natur' loolts jest like a bride And the old mare's in the pastur' with a new colt by her side. Then's the time on Sunday mornin', when the day uv rest hez come And thar's peace and calm and quiet over all the farm and home; (Tho' the buds is jest a bustin' on the bushes and the trees And the air is filled with music made by buzzin' of the bees, And the sweetest of all melodies or tunes or sounds that float, The medder lark is pourin' from his gra


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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjecthorses, bookyear1882