My girl Wins!

A true sporting story to you I'll relate,
Of two who had felt Cupid's dart.
Young Ned was a jockey; his owners fair child,
Named Kathleen he'd placed in his heart.
He gain'd her consent, to her father he went,
Who said: "In a month's time you ride
My mare called My Girl; if you win, why, my girl
You'll wed." and the jockey replied:

"If My Girl wins, I'll win my girl,
Kathleen O'Grady 
Both in form and feature she is quite divine,
My sweet lady.
We mean to wed for love alone and as for wealth,
For that we care two pins - 
I'll win my girl if My Girl wins"

The day of the race, there was Ned in his place, 
And Kathleen's old father, who said,
"If you lose this race, I am ruined, my lad;
 Not rich, but a pauper instead.
I've staked all I own in this world on My Girl, 
My all on this one Fortune's spin.
Time's up! you must go to the weighing-room, Ned. 
Your hand, lad, now go in and win!"
[chorus] 

RECITATION:
'Twas the race-course — a bright summer's morning. What a throng there: the humble, the proud,
The swells and the punters, while bookies were shouting the odds to the crowd. 
"Six to four! five to one!what d'yer say, sir ? Old Flyaway? tens,—take it twice?
Eight, guv'nor! Now, then, hurry up, there! My Girl? what ho! any price."
A couple were eagerly looking: the man's haggard face white and drawn; The girl looked as fair as the lily, when the sun heralds coming of dawn. 
'Twas the owner, and Kathleen, his daughter, and while he backed My Girl, win and place,
The girl had but eyes for the jockey who rode her dad's mare in the race. 
Their hands met, a clasp and a whisper — "Never fear, Kathleen, My Girl shall win."
Then the course cleared — the bell — all is ready, and silence succeeds the hoarse din.
They're off! what a start! all together. My Girl settled down to her stride, 
While her jockey, young Ned, like a statue, sat tight, — ah! the youngster could ride.
On and on, horses thundered together, but the favourite forged clear ahead. 
My Girl was behind, while her jockey was thinking of her he would wed. Then he saw, midst the great sea of faces, the woman he loved as his life,
And her eyes seemed to say, "Win for my sake! you're riding for love and a wife."
Whip' and spur — spur and whip, then he whispered, "My Girl, we shall lose — we're behind."
And the mare seemed to know what he wanted; with an effort she flew like the wind.
Then the cry rose — "My Girl! see, she's gaining, and the favourite's chance seems a wreck!"
As My Girl gained a length, then another, and drew level — they raced neck and neck.
Then the roar of the crowd grew like thunder. "My Girl!" "No, the fav'rite, you lie!"
While the masses were surging together, there rose up a dominant cry-
"My Girl wins!" No, they're still running level. "Dead heat!" No, that moment, young Ned,
With one mighty effort he lifted My Girl, and My Girl won the race — by a head.

[chorus]