The Grand National

39 Runners
That’s 39 jockeys
Fences a cold wind and we
See excitability
Exhileration
Hot tempered skittish invitingly

The horses are being pushed into
Responsive mawkish desire
The chemistry all now positioning
Hostages really of fire
Bondage duress subjugation
Constrained by the distances here
The adverse
The hostile
The sinister
The hapless the wretched it’s clear

Falling around them jockeys and horses
A Great Wall of nerves
It’s a duel
Challengers really just everywhere
It’s a bloody bad horse competition
With more of its share actually
Everyone so wants to win it
Despite the real difficulty