Jim
Simulcast horse racing is a wicked calling
But Jim is one who claims to be shrewd
He follows race upon race with bankroll falling
While betting horses on the tube
X
Around his home there are no roses rambling
Not a warm greeting at the door
Those sacred chips are gone to gambling
His obligations left for want of one big score.
X
A dark room, a bevy of tracks on the screen
His head is filled lines of tiny type
Folly singing of a horse quite keen
Hard earned scratch gone for hype
X
Glued to the set from gate to wire
Cheap analysis from the highest tout
Caught in the net of a betting quagmire
“But down in Kentuck is the lowest take out!”
X
Good money bet on the 1st race double
Before the sirens’ call of hooves
Steed and mount their trip of trouble
A mirage of hope before bad news
X
Late at night when all the screens have gone to dark
You could call Jim a sad and bitter recluse
In a dream, he catches a 40 to 1 shot on a lark
His pillows of Racing Forms have found their use.
