From the Evening Star, June 8, 1913. By Philander Johnson. We was feelin’ somewhat sporty, down to Pohick-on-the-Crick. We figured out a hoss race as a neat an’ fancy trick. We fenced the track off proper an’ we laid the distance out, An’ we sent requests for entries to the neighbors ‘round about. We didn’t give nobody any chance to sneer or snub; We made all comers members of the Pohick Jockey Club. There was only jes’ one little drawback to the fun; The hosses was so busy that they hadn’t time to run. Joe Struthers had to keep his mare a-haulin’ stuff to town. We couldn’t git the hosses that belong to Ezry Brown Because, like many others, they are occupied jes’ now In fillin’ their engagements with a harrow or a plow. The only equine candidate fur glory an’ fur fame Was Uncle Eben’s mule that’s been laid up because it’s lame. Us men folks all went back to work a-realizin’ quick That hoss sense ought to set the pace at Pohick-on-the-Crick.