THE COLOURS
Her mark was as tough as proverbial teak
Her coat cut a similar hue, so to speak
Her bearing was calm as she walked in the storm
Of a nationwide hope by default she’d adorn
Whilst our nerve endings sang on the heath
For precise and assured have no place in this game
Where a cautionary clue can be found in her name
Where certainty strides with a tentative gait
It’s the luck of the race that one can’t Estimate
And it’s always been so and the same
With balanced belief, the filly went out
And confidence danced with his nemesis doubt
When the field broke we cheered for a horse and our Queen
Some gnawed on their nails, some ran to East Sheen
To be cool here, you’d need the name Stoute
Well we huffed and we puffed so she’d win come what may
Then we raised Ascot’s roof for we knew that she’d stay
Though amidst all the slaps and the hats in the air
It wasn’t the horse that we cheered to be fair
But the colours she wore on the day