’m none of yer London gentry,
Non o’ yer Hyde Park swells,
But I’m only a farmers plough horse
And I’se born among hills and fells.
Yer mus’n’t expect no graces
Fer yer won’t get ‘em from me,
I’se made as nature intended
An’ I’m jus’ plain Sall, d’ye see.
You’ve not seen me in the Row yet
An; yer won’t, if yer try so ‘ard,
I’m not a shoow ‘orse yer forget
But I’m Sall, plain Sall, and Sall goes ‘ard!
Inez Quilter
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