Bolts

I've a head like a violin-case; I've a jaw like a piece of steel; 
I've a mouth like india-rubber, and devil a bit I feel; 
So I've had my fun with a biped thing that clambered upon my back, 
And I'm in at the death, though I'm panting for breath, right bang in the midst of the pack. 

    With a cockney sportsman mounted on top, 
    That has hired me out for the day, 
It's the moment for me to be off for a spree 
    In a new and original way. 
    In my own most original way. 
    Oats! but my spirits were gay! 
When I betted my bit that my rider should sit 
    Somewhere else ere the close of the day. 

I started a gentle canter; I felt him bob about, 
His spurs went in, and the roots of sin, they whipped my hind legs out. 
He put his arms around my neck, 'twas kindly meant, I swear, 
But he had no call to spoil it all by pulling out half my hair. 

He left his hat in a puddle, he left his whip on a gate, 
The briars knew where, but I don't care, the bits of his tunic wait; 
He bade me stay, I raced away, to the sound of the huntsman's horn, 
And at last I laid him gently in the arms of a bold blackthorn. 

The whip waits safe in the harness-room, the groom in the stable yard, 
It's not that I mind a tanning — my hide's grown far too hard — 
But that tied to a fly I'm safe to die, and on chaff and straw abstain, 
For as sure as I snort, if they give me this sort, of course I shall do it again. 

    With a cockney sportsman mounted on top, 
    That has hired me out for the day, 
It's the moment for me to be off for a spree 
    In a new and original way. 
    In my own most original way. 
    Oats! but my spirits were gay! 
When I betted my bit that my rider should sit 
    Somewhere else ere the close of the day.