W.S. Cox Plate

Words need not describe it when you're basking in the roar
And your voice is hoarse from yelling like you've never yelled before
Conversation fails you as the moment is digested
The old bloke spoke of shivers - it was just as he suggested

Sport has many spectacles and many will inspire
But racing has a quality that always lifts me higher
For I stood there at the finish in my Valley tie and socks
And I couldn't speak a sentence but I thought of Mr Cox

Tell me William Samual - God rest your soul in peace
Did you have this stirring vision when you entered in that lease?
Did you know that every year would write another famous page?
Could you see it as the ultimate in terms of weight for age?

For the Spring of 1930, did you have a premonition
That a terror known as Phar Lap would epitomise the mission?
Did you catch a glimpse of Tulloch leading folklore to the stars?
You know the champ had won it when the sky was raining hats

No, words need not describe it when the great ones make their mark
You think about a cliche but it wouldn't light the spark
It wouldn't make a noise from Yarra Glen to Tarragindi
Like the day the roof was lifted for a grey from Goondiwindi

They did the same for Hydrogen, for Chatham, Flight and Delta
For Tranquil Star and Tobin Bronze, this mare has been a belter
They all deserve to grace that BMX Cox Plate
Rising fast, Heroic - Its simple twist of fate

There's magic at the Valley and I'm not sure what it is
But you can almost touch the moment- you can almost taste the fizz
The atmosphere seduces you and puts you in a trance
It traps you like an insert in a web of turf romance

And just when you've convinced yourself it's only just a race
A freak of nature comes along and puts you in your place
To label it "an era" is the least that we can do
The years were 1980, 81, and 82

He couldn't win the third you know - old Bill was right of course
And we told ourselves he couldn't win, but no one told the horse
The thing about The King was that he never let us down
And when racing speaks of miracles, It speaks of Kingston Town

Words need not describe it when the brave resort to madness
That there had to be a loser, is indeed, the only sadness
When a Star they called Our Waverley declared a state of war
On his fellow Kiwi, Bonecrusher who found a fraction more

Tell me Mr Cox, from where your punters assemble
In the stirring face of combat, did the gates of Heaven tremble?
Did St Peter pull his race guide out and slap it like a fool
When the awesome fight of Dulcify exploded at the school?

Did you Loosen Up your vocal chords when Better finished best?
I think you might agree mate- this race of yours is blessed
In fact, a Saintly kind of feeling has been known to pass right through ya'
With the urge to thank the Lord above by shouting "Allelula!"

It serves as no coincidence that all the stars have won it
Since Violoncello, racing for a thousand pounds, begun it
Some have lead from go to woe and some have played the swooper
there's been champions and legends like Octagonal and Super

The jewel of Spring will sprout a wing and awesome scenes will shower
There is fame and there is fortune- there is Might and there is Power
Drama charged, emotion packed - it's all of that and more
And nothing feels as good as when you're basking in the roar

Words need not describe it and I hope they never will
That's not to say you won't be keen to talk about the thrill
But of all the things that sum it up. I fear we can't disguise
It's not what leaves our mouths - It's in the stuff that leaves our eyes

Rising deep within your stomach, climbing quickly up your spine
tugging hard on every heart string as they bravely hit the line
It starts off as adrenaline but somewhere in the cheer
With the courage of an animal, it comes out as a tear

I hope to God you've cried it and I hope you're not ashamed
For the hardest punter's been there and he knows it can't be tamed
That's what makes you feel like you're a part of their endeavour
And pretty soon you realise - it stays with you forever

So let me go out smiling when my time has come to go
In the knowledge that I've been there and I've seen their courage flow
Then bury me beneath the turf and watch my spirit fly
To be joining with those punters in that grandstand in the sky

A favour I would ask though, when at last I leave this place
And I sit up there with Mr Cox and look down on his race
Spare my soul a eulogy of sorrowful remorses
And somewhere in proceedings, please, will someone thank the horses