Harness Racing

Our grandfather going to the races,
A long, long day at the fair,
To watch the harness racing,
From the grandstand in the open air.
The horses pulling the sulkies,
Were Hambletonian bred.
Born in the State of Kentucky,
Now around the track they sped.
He joined us in the kitchen,
Wearing a mischievous grin,
His bowler hat cocked at an angle.
Rubbing his bearded chin.
How debonair was our grandfather,
How happy he must have been,
When he fiddled for the neighborhood dances,
And squired the girls so prim.
His eyes were twinkling with humor,
He carried his very best cane,
And twirled it in a sprightly fashion,
As if he were young again.
He looked so dapper and perky,
His high top shoes agleam,
How exciting to go to the races,
And sit in the bleachers with him.

by Roberta Blair Bird

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