While the Times’ loyal correspondent was combing the archives in the search for more tales of the turf, the following untitled poem was unearthed—which recounts the Second Great Match Race between the North and South, held over the Union Course on Long Island in 1836 [please see Part IV.—the Aftermath from the Great Match Race series for more details on this historic contest].

The poem below was written by Isaac Michael Dyckman, whose antebellum family farm was located in what is now the Northern Manhattan neighborhood of Inwood. Although he was a local New Yorker, it remains a mystery if Dyckman had made the journey to Long Island to see the race firsthand. Not only has this poem been preserved but the family’s eighteenth-century home also remains today as the Dyckman Farmhouse Museum!

We express our thanks to Mr. Cole Thompson for sharing the transcription of this poem, the original copy of which is located in the holdings of the New York Historical Society.

 

On the thirtieth day of May,
A race was run for money they say
Between two horses of great speed
And down in excellent time indeed

The people, they collected around
The Union Course of Jamaica town
The wind did blow, the dust did fly
And there collected in every one’s eye

‘Tis true it rained the day before
No matter for that the rain was o’er
Across the water people did glide
To see the speedy horses tried

About One O’clock of that day
The horses appeared in splendid array
Walking proudly across the turf
Both steeds of equal birth

Post-Boy was the Northern horse
Trained upon the Union Course
His large and gallant opponent indeed
Named John Bascomb the Southern steed

The two great steeds were led up and down
No doubt, saw the people standing round
Their heads well up, eyes wide open
No doubt saw the people’s motion

Horses then to show their pride
Walked down with keepers at their side
John Bascomb a sorel [sic] light
Post-Boy was a sorel bright

The keepers then threw off the dress
Well they knew the race to test
The drum was sounded by the judge
Pompously went up both the studs

The riders then mounted the word go
Away went like an arrow from a bow
They, appeared as, they went around
As if they never touched the ground

Bascomb won the first and second heat
Enough to prove Post-Boy’s defeat
Taking in the knowing Northerners
By the witty minded Southerners

Seven forty-nine the first heat won
Bascomb won the second also in fifty-one
The two greatest horses ever run
Excepting Old Eclipse and Henry Young