whaddawecare?

like those well-known plastic imposters of cash

three cards appeared

did their dastardly dash

and went, with no remorse

as they know not the smell of a horse

just numbers to them, and shouting at the course

they be not saddled with training, honour, duty and all the rest

nor bridled with experience deep

and therefore never faced a serious personal fiduciary test

they now tear their tickets and seek the gate

hearts pounding yet from the topweight in the straight

all the while ignoring the very steeds they cheered

as they stride right past the stables where those

now- anonymous horses, sweating, peered

towards the gate they chattered, should have put more on the mare

they'd had their fun, lost, but did not care

the day was phasing down, but not yet done

whaddawecare if our horses haven't won

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