LORD HIPPO

by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)

ord Hippo suffered fearful loss

By putting money on a horse

Which he believed, if it were pressed,

Would run far faster than the rest:

For someone who was in the know

Had confidently told him so.

But on the morning of the race

It only took the seventh place!

Picture the Viscount's great surprise!

He scarcely could believe his eyes!

He sought the Individual who

Had laid him odds at 9 to 2,

Suggesting as a useful tip

That they should enter Partnership

And put to joint account the debt

Arising from his foolish bet.

But when the Bookie—oh! my word,

I only wish you could have heard

The way he roared he did not think,

And hoped that they might strike him pink!

Lord Hippo simply turned and ran

From this infuriated man.

Despairing, maddened and distraught

He utterly collapsed and sought

His sire, the Earl of Potamus,

And brokenly addressed him thus:

"Dread Sire—to-day—at Ascot—I ..."

His genial parent made reply:

Come! Come! Come! Come! Don't look so glum!

Trust your Papa and name the sum....

WHAT? ... Fifteen hundred thousand?... Hum!

However ... stiffen up, you wreck;

Boys will be boys—so here's the cheque!

Lord Hippo, feeling deeply—well,

More grateful than he cared to tell—

Punted the lot on Little Nell:—

And got a telegram at dinner

To say that he had backed the Winner!

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