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The Race

Perhaps it was the blazing sun
  that dulled his aching brain,
Or it might have been the hatred
  that he harbored for the train,
But whatever made him make the bet,
  he suffered deep remorse
For he bet his ranch that his great steed
  could beat the iron horse.

Half of Canyon City lined
  the seven miles of track
To be traversed by the train and
  Dan McGinty's handsome black.
People came from miles around
  to put their bets on Dan
And cheered like thunder
  as the race began.

The starter fired his gun; the
  mighty stallion took the lead.
He was half a mile ahead before
  the train could pick up speed,
But no horse of flesh and blook could
  stand for long the awful strain--
Nearer came the labored puffing of the train.

When McGinty saw the lowing
  engine ever closer glide,
He dug his shiny spurs
  into his horse's tender sides.
Stung, the mighty stallion
  gave a superhuman bound,
And leaped like mad across the frozen ground.

The train drew nearer as the
  stallion fought to catch his breath;
The great horse never faltered as he
  felt the touch of death.
McGinty used both spurs and whip;
  the horse gave not a sign
As his proud heart burst
  across the finish line.

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