The Grand National Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Do you like the smell of horses?
Warm hay, with a hint of musk
Nut-brown, grey, or raven black
Eyes dark and moist as dusk?

Horses and women too-
Thoroughbreds, groomed and gleaming
The jockeys in vibrant silks.
The women, painted and preening
The punters in natty suits.
The flanks of the runners, steaming

Becher's Brook, five feet, with a steep drop
Two horses died here,1989
The Chair, six feet in height, took Joe Wynne's life
Canal Turn. Easter Hero fell
Causing a pile up, horse and man commingle
Foinavon Fence. A loose horse, Popham Down,
‘Cut down the leaders like a row of thistles'
Lord Oaksey recollected to the press
The fastest winning horse was Mr. Frisk
The oldest winning horse was Peter Simple

The names that people saddle horses with!
Rule the World, Comply or Die, Don't Push it,
Many Clouds and Silver Birch, Red Rum
Charity, Miss Mowbray, Shannon Lass
Frigate, Anatis, Nickel Coin, The Lamb

The Owners: hairdressers, comedians,
Football gurus, Royals, businessmen

And now a surgery has been constructed
To treat the casualties of grown up play
two treatment boxes,
X-ray unit, the works
video endoscopy,
equine solarium,
sandpit facility
horse ambulances, under police escort,
oxygen and water available
five star equine treatment all the way

Red Rum is buried at the winning post
Do his bones stir as runners thunder past?