DO they know? At the turn to the straight Where the favourites fail, And every last atom of weight Is telling its tale; As some grim old stayer hard-pressed Runs true to his breed, And with head just in front of the rest Fights on in the lead; When the jockeys are out with the whips, With a furlong to go, And the backers grow white to the lips— Do you think they don’t know?
Do they know? As they come back to weigh |