W1775

W 1775 Wiggled one whisker and opened one eye Half was dark earth and half was bright sky He saw his mom stand and he thought he would try But his legs couldn't hold him; they thrashed all about But little by little he figured it out And by the end of his first day He would follow his mom and they'd run The spring it gave way and the summer set sail And he ran and he played and he chased his mom's tail And the air was alive with the sting of cut grass And that summer was like no one future or past And then a truck pulled up painted green on the side He jumped in the back and they went for a ride South Of The Border on I-95 W1775 (Break) Winter training began and it was a breeze Left front, right rear, just as crisp as you please He felt the bit in his mouth, he felt the girth clinched tight He felt the left line attached, and then felt the right And the cart was snapped on, and the driver said go And he trotted If you find yourself lost in this world as it rots Watch the gravel kicked sideways as a two-year-old trots If it isn't just glorious, lovely, and clean Then my words can't describe what your eyes haven't seen No my words can't describe what your eyes haven't seen (Break) When April came calling, he'd learned his job well He'd handled his lessons, earned a toll of the bell And eagerly North, the green truck, 95 Went W1775 Every week faster and faster they'd go 1775 and his foe They paired him with a filly, they trained them together And their velocity soared along with the weather And the next time the truck came it was just he and his girl No road trip this time, just a short little whirl To a racetrack where forty short years ago Forty thousand a night would clamor to go And when he was hooked and set out on the track He'd never been there before but he felt he was back At home with the stone dust, the grandstand, the rail As happy as when he'd followed mom's tail And the starting car came and it opened its wings Seven babies behind it, their tendons like springs He put his nose on the gate like he'd always known how The only place here, and the only time now And the gate sprung open, colors flew all around Horses charged from both sides but he held his ground And 1775 saw it all And soon he was racing each week until fall He didn't win all his races but still he won plenty Of ninety-six tries he won almost twenty He wasn't a champ but he paid his way But once he turned eight, he lost a step then another And one race was worse and was worse than the other One day a man came to talk to the trainer He said "do you have anything here who can't beat a claimer"? Hands in his pockets, averting his eyes He said yes, W1775 But find him a good horse or at least a good job He's a hard-working horse and he can't be robbed Of the rest of his life that he earned while racing The main said I'll see what I can do with the placing So under the tunnel, New Jersey, New York, Where his great great grandsire worked through the great war And life was so different, but no one else cared Just a carriage horse now, not excited, not scared Now the mornings were different, but he was the same, Though when he was a racehorse he'd once had a name Now he was just a number tattooed on his hide W1775 And nobody raced, their carts heavy and slow, But he learned every street, red for stop green for go And the cars had no wings but there were people to meet Kids' feet not to step on, water troughs in the heat He'd raced for six years, pulled a cariage for nine And through those fifteen, his coat lost its shine And the muscles so tense and so taut when he raced Were tired and spent and lost and displaced They called his old owner; could she give him a home She said "we've always got a place for one of our own" And the van shook and rattled, and the door was pulled down Inviting him down to fresh grass and fresh ground Inviting him down to fresh grass and fresh ground W1775 Wiggled one whisker and closed one eye All was dark earth, gone the bright sky But he felt a deep rest, why fight it, why try He spent his life doing only things he'd been told And he'd never decided on how to grow old But he was never more than a length from fully alive W1775 W1775 W1775