The Favourites Finish Poem by Ted Middleton

The field had reached the half-mile post,
excitement was intense
They were yelling for the favourite,
who was running on the fence
But a slippery patch - a broken stride
and the cry went up, 'He's down'
But he slid for fully twenty yards
then commenced to make up ground

'He'll never make it - He's too far back'
and 'The bookies have our cash'
No horse could give them all that start,
though he's finishing like a flash'
So up to the furlong mark they ran,
with the leader three lengths clear
The crowd was now at fever pitch,
for the champ was drawing near

'Can he keep it up' - 'he'll weaken soon'
and 'His run has been too long'
But they little knew the mighty heart
that was out to prove them wrong
The gap was closed twenty yards to go,
both runners a-lather with foam
But a whispered word - a mighty surge
and the popular pick was home

And the cheering burst like a thunderclap
as the jockey proudly grinned
The gallant horse stood like a lamb,
as the winners sash was pinned
'The green light shows - the books can pay',
could be heard above the roar
But as though at a signal, the hero fell,
and his racing days were o'er

A silence fell upon hushed crowd,
for their champ who had given all
And their tears flowed freely with respect,
for his name they'd ever call
One punter kissed his roll and spoke
no notice of others red eyed
'I'm glad he landed our flamin' cash
'Fore he upped and damned well died'