And said he, `My country joker, are you going to give it best?
Are you frightened of the fences? does their stoutness make you shiver?
Have they come to breeding cowards by the side of Snowy River?
Are there riders on Monaro? ----' but I never heard the rest.

For I drove the Ace and sent him just as fast as he could pace it,
At the big black line of timber stretching fair across the track,
And he shot beside the Quiver. `Now,' said I, `my boy, we'll race it.
You can come with Snowy River if you're only game to face it,
Let us mend the pace a little and we'll see who cries a crack.'

So we raced away together, and we left the others standing,
And the people cheered and shouted as we settled down to ride,
And we clung beside the Quiver. At his taking off and landing
I could see his scarlet nostril and his mighty ribs expanding,
And the Ace stretched out in earnest and we held him stride for stride.

But the pace was so terrific that they soon ran out their tether --
They were rolling in their gallop, they were fairly blown and beat --
But they both were game as pebbles -- neither one would show the feather.
And we rushed them at the fences, and they cleared them both together,
Nearly every time they clouted, but they somehow kept their feet.

Then the last jump rose before us, and they faced it game as ever --
We were both at spur and whipcord, fetching blood at every bound --
And above the people's cheering and the cries of `Ace' and `Quiver',
I could hear the trainer shouting, `One more run for Snowy River.'
Then we struck the jump together and came smashing to the ground.

Well, the Quiver ran to blazes, but the Ace stood still and waited,