I think, if I may say so, that the thought behind this might be a tad snobbish. So I have gone (well slightly) another way. You may be astonished to learn that I have never been to Ascot, or indeed any other racecourse. And I've only once attended what Americans quaintly call a soccer match. Never again. I have been to Wimbledon, however, as devotees of my verse will know. Strawberries were a bit pricey.
Fallen Angels
When the women like angels look sweetly divine
In their frocks and their hats of exciting design,
When the Widow's on ice and the weather is fine,
It's a wonderful day at the races!
The hampers from Fortnums are bursting with pheasant,
The sun on your face is remarkably pleasant,
And nobody here is a pleb or a peasant,
A marvellous day at the races!
There's nothing to smack of deceit or skulduggery,
No foul-ups, no punch-ups, no theft and no thuggery,
Just gee-gees all shifting their arses like buggery,
A fabulous day at the races!
Lovely ladies, sweet ladies, how graceful your gait,
As you teeter and totter in rather a state,
And my nags all come in at a-hundred-to-eight,
An astonishing day at the races!
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