The Racehorse Poem by Prince Freakasso

In equine racing they always say,
You hope to win when you make your play;
Off course as you know, its the horses that show:
They're the only ones to make their hay.
With no help from the divine, your guess good as mine;
Our quadruped takes a million fools,
All for a ride at the same time.
Never known to run quite true,
No handicap techniques ever seem to do.
Yet he always finds his friends,
Poor battered punters, trying to make amends.
Wagering on him are millions spent,
To get you returns it was never meant.
This sport of Kings will carry on,
But as the King of this sport.......You could never be DON!