|
Gather round, boys, I'll tell you a yarn
Of a pacer we had, the pride of the barn.
Foaled in Kentucky at old Walnut Hall,
Not very big, called Best of All.
The first time I saw him, I questioned his fate.
Remember his brother, the fast Coffee Break?
By Good Time out of a Knight Dream mare,
A phobia for tractors that would give you a scare.
At two he raced throughout the Grand,
Winning the Fox, at DuQuoin, the McMahon.
When he got to the 'red mile' he had to go more,
Stopped the timers at fifty-seven and four.
At three he faced a familiar for and battled wire to wire.
He won a few and lost some too, but he never lost desire.
At Delaware he went away the favorite of the crowd.
When he won the Jug and got revenge, Ohio was justly proud.
At four he got a record anew,
Pacing the mile in fifty-six and two.
But to me, the feat the is seldom matched:
He was never lame, he was never scratched.
He is gone, but not forgotten,
That horse in the corner stall.
He will always be a champion to me;
The mighty Best of All.
1974 |