Grand Day Out
By mr_e
- 328 reads
Hungry punters keen for a flutter,
Unscrupulous bookies drop slips in the gutter.
Thousands of people milling around,
Hypnotized by the thundering sound
Of equine hooves galloping a'pace
Desperately trying to finish a race
And fill the coffers of wealthy owners
As gambling crowds become charitable donors.
Aintree blooms and bustles with pride
As jockeys and trainers parade their next ride.
Resplendent silks show a sense of belonging,
The paddock's are full, the grandstands - thronging.
Catering vans steam as burgers are cooked,
Commentators ensure they're not overlooked.
With vantage points taken and binoculars poised,
The National begins amidst a banquet of noise.
The going is heavy, this year will be tough,
By Beeches there's many who've endured quite enough.
Mud splattered jockeys and riderless horses,
This really is the most savage of courses.
Forty brave horses began this campaign,
Only four pass the finish in cold driving rain.
The winning jockey is naturally delighted
But with thirty six fallers a race sadly blighted.
By Matt Eagles
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