PART III

They were flying the turn to seven then,
You could hear those horses thud,
Lord, how the air was full of cries,
And flying sweat, and mud.
They were fighting hard for every yard,
Hot enough to burn off paint,
And the betting men were lookin' grim,
While the gals commenced to faint.

The ponies sweated, strived and strained,
As they thundered into the bend;
They had full three hunnert more to go,
Afore they saw the end.
Their eyes rolled wide, the hot foam flew,
As they hurtled past the stands.
And the muscles on their mighty necks
Rippled like iron bands.

Brown Derby ran like a beast possessed,
With a heart that could not fail.
And his jockey heard, like the drums of hell,
Bright Glim there, on his tail.
And back in third, jes' taking her time,
Was the shadow of Big Mom,
Eating the track with a long, slow stride,
Like a slowly ticking bomb.

The 'caster he was hollerin' loud
Over the old PA,
It was more a fearsome, awesome roar,
There wasn't too much he could say.
The storm of those mighty muscles flew
Like tornados under glass,
And the watchers chewed their nails, and prayed
And yelled, as they thundered past.