áWet and cold at the creek they call Stony,I scanned the yard in search of a pony,Of noble head and intelligent eye;A steed that could gallop, perhaps even fly?With strong short cannons and good deep girth,A long balanced stride revealing his worth.For my luck? Deserted! Eloped with the sun...Swallowed by rainclouds, my dollars were none.A winner I needed - this race was the last - And last all had run in these races just past.But that's when I saw him, source of this ode:A four-year-old gelding
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Wet and cold at the creek they call Stony,
I scanned the yard in search of a pony,
Of noble head and intelligent eye;
A steed that could gallop, perhaps even fly?
With strong short cannons and good deep girth,
A long balanced stride revealing his worth.
For my luck? Deserted! Eloped with the sun...
Swallowed by rainclouds, my dollars were none.
A winner I needed - this race was the last -
And last all had run in these races just past.
But that's when I saw him, source of this ode:
A four-year-old gelding, one Jackson Road.
I searched through the race-book, for number sixteen.
A Woolamai picnic this brown-bay had been!
His father? Dangerous, of wand'ring eye...
His mother? A Queen: the privileged don't cry.
Just then our gaze met, I took it as sign:
This prince of peril was going to get mine.
A taste of beer and I'm 'King of the Ring'!
Scanning the boards for the best price to wing.
The largest on offer: forty-to-one...
My ticket was marked with a handsome old sum.
He accepted - the bagman - with class; good grace.
Knowing bills-borrowed from the looks on one's face.
The rain, now teeming, they went to the start,
Jackson Road chosen, not from head but from heart.
The gates lurched open, the field were dispatched,
Throwing up mud as they tore through the track.
The colours he carried could scarcely be seen,
Stolen from view by the rain's vapid screen.
The home bend behind them, I saw without hope:
The favourite first destined for hose and for soap.
But all of a sudden, six lengths astern,
The green sea 'neath Jackson did boil and did churn.
Finding top gear, the wind in his mane,
The lick of the whip, the pop of champagne!
For somehow he won it, and it was I who now owed,
A four-year-old gelding, one Jackson Road.
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The above is my tribute to Jackson Road, who won the last race at Stony Creek on Sunday at 40-1, and got me out of (considerable) trouble... Also a big thank you to trainer Doug Harrison, jockey Ruth Bradley and Dicko for lending me the money to back it!
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