Miss Schätzchen

Clara passed Jack a fountain pen

To mark their card for the races,

A wary nod was all it took

To glance upon a certainty.

He ruffled a cluster of curls

And whispered, ‘I’ve found a good thing

In the first race. Come follow me

And place your bet at 10/1.’

Holding tightly through the thick crowd

Of card sharps, knaves, drunkards and vamps

That mingle in the betting ring,

Both shouted in the boorish din

‘£10 each way on number 5,’

To a suspect looking bookie

Who was proud to lay the jolly

As he waved his cane at the mugs.

Jack brushed his lips on Clara’s ear,

Motioned them to the parade ring

Where the well bred members circled

And spied on what owners disclosed.

‘People are more restrained out here,

Men in top hats, ladies in silk.

How uncouth,’ sneered Clara, ‘is the

Other side to the sport of kings.’

‘Racing would not survive without

Those subhumans feeding banknotes,’

Jack replied, ‘there’s number 5 now.

Look the way she strokes the turf!’

Judges deemed the filly the best

Turned out against some flighty mares,

Her gait really set her apart

With langous strides down to the start.

‘How did you know about this horse?

She’s gliding so,’ pondered Clara.

‘A tip,’ said Jack, ‘and so well named.

Miss Schätzchen, that suits both of you.’

Hand led hand to the running rails,

A slight shiver coursed through each palm,

They stared solely at each other

Till Miss Schätzchen parted their gaze.

© 2017 AGP


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