A Post-Cup Tale

I’ad the money in me ‘and!
Fair dinkum! Right there, by the stand.
I tole me wife at breakfus’ time,
Straight out: “Trivalve,” I sez “is prime.
Trivalve,” I sez. An’, all the week,
I swear ther’s no one ‘eard me speak
Another ‘orse’s name. Why, look,
I ‘ad the oil straight from a Book
On Sund’y at me cousin’s place
When we was torkin’ of the race.
“Trivalve,” ‘e sez. “‘Is chance is grand.”
I ‘ad the money in me ‘and!

Fair in me ‘and I ‘ad the dough!
An’ then a man ‘as got to go –
Wot? Tough? Look, if I ‘adn’t met
Jim Smith (I ain’t forgave ‘im yet)
‘E takes an’ grabs me be the coat.
“Trivalve?” ‘e sez. “Ar, turn it up!
‘Ow could ‘e win a flamin’Cup?”
Of course, I thort ‘e muster knoo.
‘Im livin’ near a trainer, too.

Right ‘ere, like that, fair in me fist
I ‘ad the notes! An’ then I missed –
Missed like a mug fair on the knock
Becos ‘is maggin’ done me block.
“That airy goat?” ‘e sez. “E’s crook!”
Fair knocked me back, ‘e did. An’ look,
I ‘ad the money in me ‘and!
Fair in me paw! An’, un’erstand,
Sixes at least I coulder got –
Thirty to five, an’ made a pot.
Today I mighter been reel rich –
Rollin’ in dough! Instid o’ which,
‘Ere’s me – Aw! Don’t it beat the band?
I ‘AD THE MONEY IN ME ‘AND!
Put me clean off, that’s wot ‘e did …
Say, could yeh len’ us ‘arf a quid?