THE YANKEE CRACK.

Otago Witness, Issue 1911, 6 July 1888, Page 26

THE YANKEE CRACK.

An American poem with comments by an Engli>h critic after Rowe's defeat. This is the sort of stuff trotted out in America concerning the* American champion, snuffed out by Howell on Saturday last. The Bioycling World prints the fallowing : — The nation's eyes are on you

Billy Rowe ; And we've millions bet upon you As you go. Don't you let Dick Howell boat you, Or there'll be none here to " treat" you, For we'll be a bankrupt country: Billy Rowe.

We've seen none of those " millions " over here ; for, unfortunately, Mr George M. Hender, who gave it out as his|opinion that it was 10 to 1 on Rowe against Ho well, did not come over here to lay the odds. The poem (?) proceeds as follows :—: — Let Richard do the head work, Billy Roe. Just you freeze on to the prd work, Every show. Cut the pace out fine and large, And sail by that loiteiing barge, And show him you can travel, Billy Bowe. The divine afflatus of the poet- fairly bulges out of this verse. "Just you freeze to the ped work" is a perfect instance of poetic prophecy. He did leave the head work to Dick Howell, and his " ped work " was clearly a horrid frost. Ob, yes ! the " freezing " part of the programme wa3 on hand.

Our bard now dashes off into the realms of imagination pure, and decidedly " simple." Do him up so jolly brown,

Billy Rowe, That 'will flatten London town. Billy Howe. Break the records by the mile In your good old Springfield style, And come home like Julius Cicaar, Billy Howe. If we remember our Romau history aright, Julius Cresar " came home " at last under the daggers of Brutus and his friends, and we fancy "Billy Rowe" will go home like the ancient Roman — inasmuch as he will have got plenty of " points," so to speak.

The Sweet Singer (advt.) now comes down from hisjprophetic (we must say profitec) pedestal, and remarks — The fireworks are waiting, Billy Rowe ; And the prospects are elating, You should know ; For a grand jubilation lii your honour by the nation, And " with cards " to All Creation, Billy Rowe. It is sad to think that all these preparation! should be wasted. Can'c they use them to welcome Sullivan, who, hoving got the Atlantic between his 14st self and the list man who fought him to a standstill, is out with more challenges, and is developing "gas" enough to light a city. The "pote" at last gets down to a gravel bottom, and expresses the highest aspirations of his mute. You shall live on milk and honey, Billy Bowe; With the " surplus" for pin-money. All free Blow ; You shall revel like si lord, * nd the nation pay your board, If you'll ovly do up'Howeia, Billy Howe'. Poor Billy hasn't " filled the ■ bill ;" he has not run " up to Dick." The staff poet, after racking his brains in the deepest " donjohn" beneath the castle moat, has hummed out the following :— You have been "and done the ped work, Billy Bowe; And Bicbard's done the keai work As you know. You have waited— and you've hurried, • But our Dickey wasn't flurried.' ' ' And your sheckles he has collared, Billy Bowe. Ye«, sad to say, despite poems of ; the class quoted above, despite times which made what hair old stagers had left curl with surprise, the American champion has been beaten, and not only beaten but played with in a way which demonstrates the fact that racing on cycles is an undeveloped art in America.

"Rough on Corns."— Ask for, Well" 1 Rough i on Corns." Quick relief ; complete, permanent i cure. Corns, warts, bunions. At chemists and } druggists. . : «

"Bough on Itch."—" Rongh on Itch " cure* Bkin humours, eruptions, nag worm, tetter, salt rheum, frosted feet, chilblain?, , iteb, ivy poison , bwbejtfitcb, ,".' >';\tk ' I •• f<;r I