It is Galway.
It is Race Week.
There is sunshine.
So I have channelled my inner bard and decided to pen a poem to honour this splendid festival.
I must warn you in advance that this poem does not rhyme. I could compensate for this by stating that free verse is post-modern and indicative of our multi-layered and non-conventional society. The truth is, rhyming is hard!
Hope you enjoy.
An Owed to the Galway Races
Oh my head. How it pounds, how it aches, I’m so sick
And, forsooth, it is still only Tuesday
Please tell me why, oh why did I not wait until Thursday?
I am so hungover.
She was 50 to 1, I was drawn to her name
“200 on “MayTheHorseBeWithYou”
My champagne-addled brain, a perceived no brainer
I have no money left.
Karen Millen, her name always synonymous
With timeless grace, on-trend fashion and style
Now sick-covered post Ladies Day (paradoxically named)
I am totes morto, babez.
Tell me, how will I survive, how will I uphold
Two more days’ equine pretence in the rain
But wait, I spy the drinks tent and a chopper just landed
I am fully committed.
The hipsters are out, and they look lost ‘round the track
Stroking beards and feigning disinterest
“It’s Saturday dude, so we’re here ironically,” they say
My face covered in beard rash.
We’re nearly there, the finish line is in sight
I have just enough fuel in the tank
As I nurse a small sherry watching Mad Hatters galore
Thank God Sunday has arrived.
Another year over, I say never again
Honestly, I don’t even like horses
But I’m online shopping once more, next year I’ll be Best Dressed
These memories (?), owed to the Galway races.