Thank you Richard for sharing
your passion for horse racing
with us,possibly missing the
big surf, as your aired your
views on the big topics.
You have become an indelible
part of racing history and
mythology.
I scibbled down a short poem on
a longish bus journey which
I have just tidied up.
It was a dark day today
…….
THE CRISPRUM
Like the run of the fog on the Tyne
they will be re-watching the old crime
in well over a hundred years time
With hoover parts for hearts
and implants shaking with gel
they’re down at the start at Bates Motel
On a beech chair panted and pining
he couldn’t get up and she’s crying
for dear Dickie so hard he was trying
Mother shouts out now Norman tell
What the hells that awful smell
Not out of the swamp
you know I’m not well
The new man room one
called Dickie Mum
I made him into rum