It was April Nineteen-Forty-Five when John came into bat

When the Mayor of Hiroshima said “What the fuck was that?”

Alas there was no National, just like the four before

Aintree was abandoned, cancelled for the war

They held the race when John was one, in 1946

 And Lovely Cottage, (twenty-fives), was champion of the sticks

At five it was Freebooter, at ten, a horse called Quare

Newcastle won the FA Cup, with ninety-thousand there!

Nicholas Silver won it at twenty-eight to one

When Ladbrooke was just sweet sixteen in 1961

England won the World Cup, but it didn’t bother him

He just had eyes for Glenys (and a horse called Anglo Tim)

Highland Wedding won it and John was so excited

He had it in a double, with Newcastle United!

The Grand National and Fairs Cup, who could ask for more?

It really was a canny bet at the age of twenty-four!

At thirty there’s L’Escargot, at thirty-five, Ben Nevis

With information from the top supplied to him by Glenys

Her Last Suspect in 85 was a horse called Mr Frisk

The 1990 winner and really worth the risk

Ladbrooke almost hit the roof in 1993

When Kieth Brown fucked the start up for all the world to see

When Ladbrooke had his fiftieth, still fit and well and able

Royal Athlete romped the National, from Jenny Pitman’s stable

So now John Bradley’s sixty, a lot of races past

And Charlie and Camilla have tied the knot at last

And they’re under starters orders at Aintree once again

And John is laying short odds that my bet will be in vain!