To some, in income-anticipation, Horse-baulking at gates is a small debase; To me, it seems a memory/fear case Over the coming whip-castigation. To some, the winning jockey's elation Is the highlight of an ended horserace; To me, the horse's bulged veins and scared face Undermine the winners' celebration. I can't condone a punter's desire To gamble rather than earn a living, But can acknowledge a jockey's courage; I can't see and think as a raced sire, Nor feel the scrapes hedges are giving, But find horses choiceless in their bondage.