Bit Of Bush, Robbo: The Dog Food Express.
The Dog Food Express.
Well I once had a really hopeless racehorse,
the laziest mongrel, that just wouldn't race .
A model of consistency, upon every course
my thoroughbred, without any turn of pace.
Now, I had this very dubious mate of mine,
the more than a trifle dishonest, local `vet'.
He needed no persuading, nary a single line,
but he guaranteed a winning run, dead set.
Then of course, it goes without me saying,
he had a mind, to monetary compensation.
Bulk dollars at the odds, I'd be outlaying
just how many, is classified information.
He produced this big syringe from his pocket,
"An untraceable substance, that is, for sure
Premium stuff he'll accelerate like a rocket,
to win by lengths, if you let him go full bore."
"So inform the stewards, he'll be on the pace,
say you told your hoop, to jump him out fast.
Say, if he's headed, he does not want to race,
tell them, you're tired, of him running last!"
No problems in getting prices, or in getting set,
for the books were so obliging, without duress.
"No problems how much do you want to bet?"
"What is his name, your ol' Dog Food Express?"
"The Dog Food Express", was his name acquired,
his real name was one, of noble equine splendour
Poor performance the nom de plume had inspired,
they all knew his real name, every betting vendor.
Joyfully written tickets, his name upon each one,
the odds like cricket scores, granted with a smile.
Nary one thought given, to being brought undone,
the other nags would beat him, by a country mile
He exploded out the barriers, to race along the rails,
led them easy, at the turn and went on with the job.
He then extended made the others look like snails
The crowd was yelling, "ring in", calling for a swab.
My blood had turned to water, as I turned to the vet,
he was actually smiling I could not believe my eyes!
"Let them check marks and brands, now don't you fret,
and let them swab him double, they're in for a surprise."
"You've heard about the "horse whisperers" of course?
Well, you best believe it, because I'm the best around."
I enlightened your nag, speaking out, in fluent horse,
"Win, or you're dog food, now how does that sound?"
Said I would give him a something, helpful to his gait,
but I impressed upon him, that he actually had to run.
I conjured wild images, of equine dog food on a plate
with him as star ingredient, unless that race was won.
"Forget about the "Stipes" think how much we won."
"What about that needle, he won by ten and a quarter?"
"The horse likely still believes it was rocket fuel, Ol' Son,
but, as I said, don't worry, there's nothing odd in water!"
©. Copyright: Bernard de Silva 20 April 2010.