Almighty Arkal

Ask an Irish man about the course,

and he'll sing the praises of a horse,

who's racing record was so grand ,

He was feared from land to land.

He was a legend on the track,

a room for trophies,not a rack.

He was the king of the horses;

to him Milhouse was a knave

and jockeys bowed before him,

And was always the bookies fav.

(This poem is dedicated to Arkal ,an Irish racing legend R.I.P.)