While The Billy BoilsSearchCome, all ye bold trainers, give heed to my song.It's a rule of the A.J.C.;You mustn't train ponies, for that's very wrong,By the rules of the A.J.C.You have to wear winkers when walking the street,For fear that a pony by chance you might meet;If you hear one about you must beat a retreat—It's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold owners will find, without fail,By the rules of the A.J.C.The jockey-boy's fees you must pay at the scale—It's a rule of the A.J.C.If your horse wins a fiver you'll smile, I'll be bound;But you won't smile so much by the time that you've foundThat the fee to the boy is exactly Ten Pound—It's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye bold 'books' who are keeping a shop,In the rules of the A.J.C.There's a new regulation which says you must stop—It's a rule of the A.J.C.You must give up your shop, with its pipes and cigars,To an unlicensed man (who is thanking his stars);While you go and bet in the threepenny bars—It's a rule of the A.J.C.
And all ye small jockeys who ride in a race,In the rules of the A.J.C.If owners' instructions are 'Don't get a place,'By the rules of the A.J.C.You must ride him out—though of course if you do,You will get no more mounts, it's starvation to you.But, bless you, you'll always find plenty to chewIn the rules of the A.J.C.