but I liked an old nag called Fred,
he looked sort of eager and flighty,
as the bookmakers odds span around in my head,
and sweet Aphrodite went into the red,
and I wished that I was back home in my bed,
not here with these blokes rich and skitey.
“A hundred to one” said the fellow,
I decided to give it a go,
“Fifty dollars on Fred” was my bellow,
And all of the guys who were well in the know,
Sniggered and said I was doin’ my dough,
“Fred couldn’t outrun a three-legged crow,
On his back is a streak – and it’s yellow!”
And then all the horses flew past,
There was only two furlongs to go,
I stood there watching, aghast!
Fred was the leader, but starting to slow,
Five thousand dollars was there on the go,
And then it was over, and what do you know?
Fred came in motherless last.
My world turned from silver to black,
Aphrodite had killed them, of course,
My money would never come back,
And I slowly drove home from that devilish course,
full of repentance and full of remorse,
And the next time I put all my dough on a horse,
It won’t be a useless old hack!