It's beastly, dear boy, and no bottles. I landed on _Ladas_ last year, And I've got such a cert. for to-day, as I _couldn't_ go wrong on--no fear! Oh, laylocks and lemonade, CHARLIE! it do give yours truly the 'ump To think I must miss such a treat, all along of that precious old pump. The whizz o' the wheels makes mad music, old man, in this dingy old den, Where only the tick of the clock, and the scrape of my spiky steel pen, Measure hout the monotonous 'ours, while friend Bung and young Greens are agog. 'Midst the clatter and clink of the course, and the yelp of the old Derby Dog. I can smell the sweet whiff of their baccy, can taste the cold chickin' an' 'am, And see the fine salmon-hued sparkle of Bung's Jerryboam of Cham. I _know_ Greens will do it to rights; I am _sure_ a safe winner I'd spot, And my anti-gambling old Gaffer 'as spiled the whole splurge! _Ain't_ it rot? Them plaguey philanterpists, CHARLIE, are turning the world upsidown! A cove musn't lap arf-a-pint, and a cove mustn't lay arf-a-crown! It's Weto all over the shop, CHARLIE! But wot _I_ always remarks,-- Philanterpy seems to shine mostly in Wetoing _other_ folks larks! Well, I'm off down the road, mate, to Clapham, or wot not, to see 'em return. My cert. 'asn't come off, I 'ear, so I've dropped arf the screw as I earn By my six days of nose-to-the-grinstone of Gaffer. He'd larf if he knowed. But if it ain't _his_ bloomin' fault for his sport-'ating 'umbug, I'm blowed. _Sport?_ Sport's in the blood of a gentleman! Cocktails ain't fly to the fun Of landing a bit off a pal. Lor! a bet, on a 'orse or a gun, Mykes friendship and life reglar flavoursome! 'Ow could your true sportsman care For a drive through green lanes to the Derby without a small flutter when there? Too late for the flutter to-night, but the Clapham laburnums are out; There are plenty of pubs on that road, to the Wetoist's 'orror, no doubt. I am sure to meet lots of old pals, full of fun and good stuff as they'll carry, And if we don't 'ave Derby larks, spite o' Gaffers and HAWKES, I ain't, 'ARRY. * * * * * Derby Dampers. Having no invitation to join a company on a drag. Having no money to pay for a railway ticket to the course. Having no friends rich enough or rash enough to advance a trifle on account. Having no notion of the betting and no knowledge of the horses engaged. Having no time, no money, and last, but not least, no inclination. * * * * *