By Hans Ebert
It’s a murder of crows and one gungha din
It’s goes more pear-shaped everyday
It’s a tangled web of lies and deceit
Welcome to Melbourne racing today
Where has all the good times gone?
Been replaced by a circus of cheats?
Then there’s the tedious social commentary
The same old stories on repeat
“Always keep watching your back, mate”
“And don’t trust him or her”
The whole place is a House Of Cards
You can’t tell Batman from the Joker
Racing.com is just an empty shell
There’s practically nothing there
Not even a dash of Lea & Perrin Sauce
Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard is bare
Then there are the petty jealousies
When a newbie proves the gurus wrong
They clutch their fifty dollar bets and whinge
“They would never have let him on”
It’s no longer fun, boys and girls
To be bombarded by constant paranoia
You wanna catch the first plane home
And get away from those racing in Victoria
And who are all these hangers on?
The creepy brigade on the fringe?
What’s their real modus operandi?
What’s behind the lopsided grins?
The negative talk takes you nowhere
The glass is always there half empty
Who needs to sit around all day
Listening to Grumpy, Dozy and Dopey?
Lighten up everybody
If you don’t like it just walk away
Yes, racing in Victoria is one big mess
Do you really want to save it
Or deep down want it to fail?
Doctor Roberts and the Moody Blues
The two-ringed circus carries on
It’s the longest running horse opera
The Keystone Cops always get it wrong
Come on Martin Pakula
Let’s see you right the wrongs
I don’t really care either way
I can’t wait to get back to Hong Kong