THE ASCOT BELL

Destiny answers when fate comes a calling

For some it’s a blessing, for others appalling

For all there’s a point when we’re faced with a truth

Whether Life, Death or Taxes, Rum, Scotch or Vermouth

 

And for Race fans such moments are found on the course

When the field turns for home and you ask, ‘where’s my horse’

And you pray, as connections, or one with a bet

That the subsequent outcome’s not one you’ll regret

 

Now of all the arena’s, there’s one where you know

That the moment is on, the excuse has to go

When the wheat drops the chaff and the race comes to life

And you don’t give a damn about hats or the wife

 

Do I speak of the corner beneath Tattenham Hill

Or the fence before Becher’s, do I speak of the thrill

When the field hits the Bushes, when Heaven meets Hell

No I speak of a sound and that sound is a Bell

 

Unique in her calling, her tone strikes a fear

And she conjures up memories that last through the years

Did Bustino and Grundy to her chime so decide

That the Race of the Century was theirs to provide

 

Does a Jockey wake up in the depths of the night

Does he hear her, recoiling; does he relive the plight

When he should have been somewhere, but couldn’t be found

And upon the crowd favourite, can’t make up the ground

 

For the owners and trainers who’s victories she’s rung

For Beeswing, Sagaro, The Flying Dutchman

For Ardross, for Generous, avenged Dancing Brave

Her ring was like music they took to the grave

 

But the flip-side is harsh and the list there is long

Of the days when fate chose a more punishing song

When tears flowed and names didn’t make honour’s roll

Look back and you’ll find out for whom the bell tolls.

 

So how do you feel when you hear that bell ring

Does she peel, does she toll a death knell, does she sing

Well she heralds a moment for all in this game

And she treats two imposters as one, just the same

 

Enthralled I shall stand and I’ll listen and wait

For the instant that’s right, wrong, too soon or too late

For the signal she gives that says all in life’s well

Or I’m doomed, like my horse by the great Ascot Bell

©Henry Birtles
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