A Lay of Olden Layers

Egg-laying competitions are again becoming very popular, and published scores seem to indicate close and exciting contests.

“THEM was the days!” said the old sport, Ben —
Them old egg-layin’ days,
When a egg was a egg an’ a ’en was a ’en;
Till we fell for the gam’lin’ craze.
But we bred reel birds an’ we risked our tin,
An’ we cheered ’em on like mad
Till it got too ’ot, an’ the crooks got in,
An’ a noble sport went bad.

“Me? I was lucky. Me last big race
Was the time — ’fore you were born —
When I put me shirt for a win or place
On Meg, me white Leg’orn.
Excitement? Man! It was win or bust,
But I got fair odds on Meg,
A sprintin’ bird as a man could trust,
An’, lad, she knoo ’er egg.

“They’re off! . . . A Langshang took the lead,
An’ Meg was lyin’ third.
To them as didn’t know ’er breed
She looked a beaten bird.
But I knoo my ’en an’ I knoo the game
An’ I knoo wot pace she ’ad.
Then, egg an’ egg, to the turn they came;
An’ the crowd went yellin’ mad.

“She wins! She don’t! The Langshang’s done!”
Then me good old stayer, Meg,
She come in the straight with ’er famous run
An’ won be arf a egg.”