The Song of the Spurt.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2146, 19 November 1875, Page 2

The Song of the Spurt.

We believe that the boat race between a crew of gentlemen from Parawai Wd the Bank of New Zealand is fixed for Wednesday next. Mr Wallnutt it to decide whether the day is suitable for the race or not. There is still ' timfrfo. fore the race for either crew to improve, so we forbear comment for the present, but perhaps may have a few words to say as to the probable'winners between this and the race day. "Egging down,*'a. our volatile friend Mr Weston would say, the other day we found the following eflusibn evidently intended to be what the name authority would term a " hymn "—we regret we cannot accompany it with "ban. joizings,' but that is out of our power, .bew of those who have not. rowed in actual races know the intense anxiety which takes possession of a man whose nerves are not made of castiron, as he sits with his ■ heart in his mouth waiting the signal to start. Old bars are often flurried, young ones nearly always so, and even in the most veteran crews the first halt-dozen strokes are given with an amount of splashing and want of time often m ludicrous as surprising to behold. The fatal habit of looking out of the boat even for a moment, no matter how secure the race may seem, has brought to grief nOS a irw <*ews» and caused the trouble and self-denial of some weeks' training to be thrown away when victory was all but won. We hope it may not be the case on Wednesday, but wish for a fine day, no mishaps, a close race, and may the best men win.-

With hands all blistered and worn, With eyes excited and red, A rowing man sat in his jersey and bags 4 Awaiting the signal with dmd. Another crew off Tararu Were \rith similar garments begirt, And, as he watched them with quiver and dread, He scornfully, mournfully, shook his head, And sangr the song of a spurt. •

Oh! why was I such a fool As e'er into training to go, And consent for the sake of the B. N. Z. This infernal race to row. . Steam, bucket, and pant, * Pant, bucket, and steam, I lug at my oar 'till I almost faint, And row along in a dream.

Oh ! training has its woes, Which, alas, I know too well, And the pain I suffer when I ait down No untrain'd man can tell. Oh I but to breathe the smoke . Of the bird's-eye and honeydew, And to feel the pleasure of gratified thirst Which when once untrained I knew. For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel Before I ate this monotonous fare, This unchanging incessant meal.

But Mr Wallnutt has said The.day's fit for the race, and so It's here I sit in pain, and dread 'Gainst the Parawai boat to row. . : 0 men with sisters dear— 0 men with pretty cousins— ■ 1 must mind and keep my '< form " to the end ; They'll be on the wharf by dozens.^ I know that some overkin* friend Will point out that I'm awfully done ; But my song must stop—there's the dreadful pop Of the starter's signal gun. '

The boats were started away, And at first the B. N. Z. led, And the singer manfully plied his oar, . Nor ever once turned his head. Lug, lug, lug, ' -. ' He began his full powers to exert j Soon his boat would have been the first past the post. But he turned round to look at a lady, and lost, For—he caught a." crab" in the spurt.