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