Then came cabs from the railway stations, Carrying men from all the nations, Olive-skinned French with clipped moustaches, Almond-eyed like Paris apaches. Rosy French with their faces shining From joy of living and love of dining. Silent Spaniards, merry Italians, Nobles, commoners, saints, rapscallions; Russians tense with the quest of truth That maddens manhood and saddens youth; Learned Norwegians hale and limber, Brown from the barques new in with timber. Oregon men of six feet seven With backs from Atlas and hearts from Heaven. Orleans Creoles, ready for duels, Their delicate ears with scarlet jewels, Green silk handkerchiefs round their throats, In from sea with the cotton boats. Portuguese and Brazilianos, Men from the mountains, men from the Llanos, Men from the Pampas, men from the Sierras, Men from the mines of the Cordilleras, Men from the flats of the tropic mud Where the butterfly glints his mail with blood; Men from the pass where day by day The sun's heat scales the rocks away; Men from the hills where night by night The sheep-bells give the heart delight; Indians, Lascars and Bengalese. Greeks from the mainland, Greeks from the seas; All kinds of bodies, all kinds of faces, All were coming to see the races, Coming to see Sir Lopez run And watch the English having their fun. The Carib boxer from Hispaniola Wore a rose in his tilted bowler; He drove a car with a yellow panel, He went full speed and he drove a channel. Then came dog-carts and traps and wagons With hampers of lunches, pies and flagons, Bucks from city and flash young bloods With vests "cut saucy" to show their studs, Hawbuck Towler and Spicey Random Tooled in style in a rakish tandem. Blood Dick Haggit and Bertie Askins Had dancers' skirts on their horses' gaskins; Crash Pete Snounce with that girl of Dowser's Drove a horse that was wearing trousers; The waggonette from The Old Pier Head Drove to the tune "My Monkey's Dead." The costermongers as smart as sparrows Brought their wives in their donkey barrows. The clean-legged donkeys, clever and cunning, Their ears cocked forward, their neat feet running, Their carts and harness flapping with flags, Were bright as heralds and proud as stags. And there in pride in the flapping banners Were the costers' selves in blue bandannas, And the costers' wives in feathers curling, And their sons, with their sweet mouth-organs skirling. And from midst of the road to the roadside shifting The crowd of the world on foot went drifting, Standing aside on the trodden grass To chaff as they let the traffic pass. Then back they flooded, singing and cheering, Plodding forward and disappearing, Up to the course to take their places, To lunch and gamble and see the races.