I was invited to the race meeting, held in Balranald, once.
It was when….Sydney was too far away!
Andrew Barton Patterson, wrote, in part:
“’_Twas a mare called the Cracker, I came down to back her,
But found she was favourite all of a rush,
The folk just did pour on to lay six to four on,
And several bookies were killed in the crush_.
“_It seems old Tomato was stiff, though a starter;
They reckoned him fit for the Caulfield to keep.
The Bloke and the Donah were scratched by their owner,—
He only was offered three-fourths of the sweep_.
“_We knew Salamander was slow as a gander,
The mare could have beat him the length of the straight,
And old Manumission was out of condition,
And most of the others were running off weight_.
“_No doubt someone ‘blew it’, for everyone knew it,
The bets were all gone, and I muttered in spite
‘If I can’t get a copper, by Jingo, I’ll stop her,
Let the public fall in, it will serve the brutes right_.’
from “How the favourite beat us.” by ‘Banjo’ Patterson.