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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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