Early morning in Newmarket; the thundering of a thousand racehorses training on the gallops, coming out of the mist... it's a magical place, where time holds its breath, and I was moved to imagine the horses as unearthly beings... mythic, sprung from the turf, racing the ghosts.
Newmarket Anthem
Rise up early with the sun
Out on the hills where the horses run
Time holds its breath as they thunder by
Horses of fire and earth and sky
Like centaurs flung from the ageless turf
Elemental beings of the
Great green earth.
Leaping to battle as champions must
Heroes and horses
Race all the ghosts of the past.
Chestnut, bay and roan and grey,
Galloping out of the mist each day,
Dappled, sorrel, black and brown,
Hearts and hooves on fire across the downs.
Sidestepping, ears pricked,
Sun-kissed horses,
Train for their part in
England's races
Dance down the sand tracks
Snorting and shying
Then leap in the air
And the horses are flying.
Chestnut...
Rise up early with the sun
Out on the hills where the horses run
Time holds its breath as they thunder by
Horses of fire and earth and sky
And the air is bright
And the horses gleam,
The sun burns white on the
Sweat and steam
Ancient echoes thunder on the heath
In the dawn
Where the living legends
Are born to run.
And chestnut...
