An old man sat in a grandstand chair,
hair in his whiskers, gray in his hair,
and his voice rang out on the sultry air.
I'm betting the roll on Roma.
She was sired by the Duke in Arkansas.
Her mother was cousin to man of war.
She broke every record she started for.
So I'm betting my roll on Roma.
I'm packing it in when this race is run.
The bookies are laying me 30 to 1. She's a lead pipe cinch.
I'm a son of a gun,
and I'm betting me roll on Roma.
Then I'll build a big city mansion and a summer home down by the sea.
And I'll put the old mare on a pension
when she brings home the bacon to me.
The jockeys were dressed in their silk so gay.
The crowd was immense.
That memorial day,
she'll win in a walk.
They heard him say, I'm betting me roll on Roma.
Off they rode to the starting place.
The crowd debated who'd win the race.
You could read the words on the old man's face.
I'm betting my roll on Roma.
The crowd was still and the air was tense.
Everyone held their breath in suspense.
A
voice rang out on the grandstand fence.
I'm betting me roll on Roma.
I'm going to build
me a big city mansion and that summer home down by the sea.
And I'll put the old mare
on a pension when she brings home the bacon to me.
They're off!
Then they climbed to a higher spot.
The barriers sprung.
They're off like a shot.
The old man's
yelling,
believe it or not,
but I got to hold me roll on Roma.
They passed the corner, oh Lord be kind.
Roma is nearly a quarter behind.
The jockey must either be drunk or be blind.
I got to hold me roll on Roma.
They're into the stretch and the going is fine.
The crowd all yelled when they passed the line.
I thought I was rich,
but she slipped in the ditch.
And I had all my roll on Roma.
Oh,
there may be a big city mansion and that summer
home down by the sea.
And the mare may be put on a pension,
but by somebody else and not me.