Classic Poem

Old Timbrook was a black horse
black as any crow
Old Timbrook was a black horse
black as any crow
Had a white ring 'round his fore-paw
white as any snow

Yes old Timbrook he come darting
like a bullet from a gun
Old Timbrook he come darting
like a bullet from a gun
And old Molly she come creeping
like a criminal to be hung

Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker,
Johnny Walker my dear son
Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker,
Johnny Walker my dear son
Hold tight rein on Timbrook
so that horse could run

Oh the cuckoo was a flying bird
hollers when he fly
Oh the cuckoo was a flying bird
hollers when he fly
But he never hollers cuckoo
till the fourth a July

Oh the race track it was dusty
and the wind was high
Oh the race track it was dusty
and the wind was high
Well you couldn't see old Timbrook
as he come darting by

Oh the children they did holler
and the old folks squall
Oh the children they did holler
and the old folks squall
But old Timbrook he beat Molly
to the hole in the wall

I love my race horse
like to have my fun
Yes I love my race horse
like to have my fun
Old Missus went to the race track
and lost all-a her mon'