The gate flies open and we jump out the best
with nostrils flaring and ears pinned our match
we have now met.
I steady my mount, then we
head for the rail, the pounding of hooves are 
all around me but onward we sail.
We are crunched, pinched, and beaten about
but the horse shows no resistance and I find a
way out.
Then out of the turn and down the stretch, I yell "lets
go" and he leaves like a jet.
I can see up ahead the finish line, it's not too far
now
I can almost smell the roses in the winner's circle
at Churchill Downs.
No greater accomplishment can a jock achieve
then to be the winner of a Kentucky Derby.
I dismount and as my feet hit the ground, a mob
of reporters come running, the bunch of hounds.
Shoving microphones in my face for me to recap
the last furlongs of the race.
I try to respond though I am a bundle of nerves
after the last sixteenth it was all a blur.
The horse did his job he carried us through
You should be interviewing him, he's the real news.
The lights have now faded, the interviews are done
the parties are all over, our race has been run.
Next year will bring another chance for someone to
win this most prestigious race
And another will stand in my place with pride
beaming from thier face.
For no greater honor will a jock ever recieve
than to be the winner of a Kentucky Derby.