Prog One

He won the race
By the length of a well-smoked cigarette
First past the post, and pleased the citizens of Cork
And at the finish, as the turf carved under the hoof
Riderless horse you may run on
Run on run on run on run on
Meanwhile, the bad boys who threw their mounts
Might get a lump of
Sugar round the back of the stand
Sugar round the back of the stand
Loaded in the back of a van
Loaded in the back of a van
She filled the place
With the things she could never forget
And in the post
Returned him all the presents he’d bought
And at the finish, as the sun dipped under the roof
Futureless cause you may run on
Run on run on run on run on
Meanwhile, the bad boys who threw their mounts
Might get a lump of
Sugar round the back of the stand
Sugar round the back of the stand
Loaded in the back of a van
Loaded in the back of a van
He loved her face
But said the things he would always regret
Gave up the ghost
Forgetting every battle he’d fought
And at the finish, as he searched still vainly for proof
Powerless force you may run on
Run on run on run on run on
Meanwhile, the bad boys who threw their mounts
Might get a lump of
Sugar round the back of the stand
Sugar round the back of the stand
Loaded in the back of a van
Loaded in the back of a van