The turf flies, <br />The fillies run, <br />My bet applies, <br />I did it for fun, <br />The thunderous sound, <br />They passed so fast, <br />The rumbling ground, <br />Is still at last, <br />The silence has come, <br />My ears adjust, <br />The voices hum, <br />My throat is trussed, <br />Did ours come first? , <br />I hope she did, <br />Gosh, such a thirst, <br />Need to be rid, <br />How about a whisky. <br />Well done my pet, <br />She's a little frisky, <br />Now pet, don't fret, <br />There's the cup there <br />along with the rest, <br />Ah, here's the Mayor <br />With his chain on his chest. <br />The jockey's been weighed, <br />Our 'pride' is led, <br />The crowds they fade, <br />Slowly we tread, <br />The homeward way. <br />The racing's over, <br />A splendid day, <br />Where's the landrover, <br />Horsebox too, <br />Then lets retire <br />Join the queue, <br />Before I expire. <br />She'll win again <br />That's for sure, <br />Oh, here comes the rain <br />What a bore. <br />But still we won, <br />That's really good. <br />That's right, my son, <br />I knew she would.<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-races/
