The Grand National

The certainty of injury
The inevitability
Without a shadow of a doubt
The horses are not free
Irrational unfounded and genuinely unsound
High fences over distance
Hooves Pounding on the ground

To argue in a circle
With the sloppy thinking mob
Tunnel vision one track minds
Freedom yes we rob
The imbecilic asinine
Of a fatuous display
Blood and thunder broken bones
A pitiful array

The gullible the tactless
Besotted with the race
The mindless unenlightened
And the reckless use of space .
Inexplicable thought patterns
It’s gibberish to me
Incoherent gambling
Ambiguity

Weasel words and double talk
Skullduggery and worse
A total lack of clarity
However big the purse
It truly is deplorable
How many horses fall
Execrable and awful
Up against each wall

Faulty flawed and mangled
Sinister and wrong
Horses of this calibre
They just do not belong
Traps for the unwary
The caveats we see
Ominous and threatening
The race just shouldn’t be
Tussle clash and conflict
A tournament of souls
Yielding to the distance
Yielding to controls

Cave in to the pressure
Bow one’s neck and fall
Surrender and be merciful
A battlefield and all