[‘A marriage is arranged between Miss Diana Dashington and Lord Broadacres.’]
The race of the season is over ;
I’ve lost and Diana has won ;
She’s feasting on Broadacres’ clover,
And I am right out of the fun.
Though Di was the one to begin it,
She soon found me making the pace ;
I thought all along I should win it,
And only backed her for a place.
At Ascot Diana was leading,
At Henley I spurted ahead ;
At Cowes side by side we were speeding;
At Trouville I fancy I led.
Neck to neck we ran, shoulder to shoulder,
The pack was too killing to last
(If the weather had only been colder!)
I flagged, and Diana shot past.
My heart’s not by any means broken;
I hope I’m not wanting in pluck ;
A tear or two, low be it spoken,
Then I kissed her and wished her good luck.
Di won the race fairly as stated;
But when her attractions are reckoned,
My own must not be underrated
I finished a very good second!