Oh, great horsemother in the sky,
Here is a question from a bard, such as I!
Are you shooting a racing vet today?
Another horse was destroyed for gain,
This is, of course,
A personal hobby horse,
If a horse gallops anyway,
Why are you whipping them this way?
This is the sport of kings, you see,
Death for a horse, if not its jockey,
Sounds to me like animal cruelty,
Racegoers turn the other way,
Drink some more best champagne,
This is question, better yet,
Does horsemother ever shoot the vet?
Categories:
racegoers, animal, horse, obituary, race,
Form: Free verse
Ladies dress up, looking their best
Pretty clothes chosen just to impress
Perfumed and pretty the ladies in high heels
Their menfolk look keen and prepare to do deals
It’s Ladies Day, at Ascot, an important event
For spending one’s money and not paying the rent
The crowd roars and cheers with tipsy excitement
Champagne overflows with the toffs and the titled
The royals parade for the eager crowd
Top hats lifted and politeness all round.
The fine horses parade sweating and anxious
Whilst trainers give jockeys tips for the action
Bookmakers sing out the odds for punters
Whilst tic tac men send secret codes to funders
Favourites are picked for substantial bets
Whilst outsiders are chosen by those with large debts
The stalls are opened and the horses surge out
Whips crack, and jockeys curse mounts
The favourite pushes through so beautifully
And the no hopers go backwards for all to see
The favourite is a winner just by a nod
the crowd cheers and eagerly collect their huge wads
For the beaten it is a day to try to forget
And the losing tickets flutter down with regret
The racegoers journey back home, fortunes spent
Whilst their ladies plan for next year’s event
Categories:
racegoers, horse, race,
Form: Couplet