THE SPIRIT OF GEORGE
There's a boy on the rails if you look carefully
Where the field hits the roar of the crowd
And he's gone when you blink, but still there, don't you see
At the track, where he dreamt that he wanted to be
As the cheers tear a hole in the clouds
There's a voice in the ring that his friends recognize
As they take Thirty Threes for the Rag
And they turn to say 'George, how’s the sport in the skies
Did the big man upstairs give a tip for this prize
Have you time for a drink and a fag'
In the paddock he stands with a confident gait
Just obscured by Sir Henry’s shy tilt
Whilst he listens intently to all the debate
Should they take on the pace, should they leave it till late
That old line between glory and guilt
You might think that he sadly missed Frankel’s great days
When he galloped them into the ground
You might think that he missed all those mighty displays
But George was there too and he basked in the rays
Of the King with a speed close to sound
Yes he marvelled with us at the power and the glory
He helped raise the roof for each win
Coming down from above to be part of a story
He witnessed performance, more bloodless than gory
George felt Frankel’s glow from within
So his spirit remains, you can feel that he’s here
And his memory stands tall with his mates
Let’s honour his passion, let’s give him a cheer
For Racing was something he worshipped; that’s clear
And he flies in the face of his fate
Up, up and away, take it on, spread the word
Get your friends to come down to the track
Beat the drum for this sport, let your voices be heard
It’s a thrill you can’t match, whether lad, beast or bird
And to add to it all, there’s the craic
©Henry Birtles