Desert Orchid

Our Poem

Steady now my handsome, your turn will come around
See how the other fellow is eating up the ground.
Soon they'll try his mettle, the sticks will be his game
And then just perhaps the crowds will roar his name.
So gently now my handsome, raceday's almost here
It's no secret few can touch you, don't you let one near.
You'll bring magic to the valley where the hallowed turf is laid,
Hearts you've won already and daydreams never fade.


Verse by Mary Lascelles