The Racehorse

Shergar pulled the milk float, one sunny afternoon
In the county of Kildare he tred
Evening came back slowly and the moon, dear sister, grew
And Shergar slept standing in his bed

He'll dream of his life when he's not in the public eye
Oh, he's retired
I'd be the same if I were a racehorse worth the race

Men came through the door and pulled old Jim out of his chair
And made him walk down to the Irish stable
And the eight-figure horse that slept as soundly as a log
Was packed into the back of a rusty trailer

He looked to the sky and to the road, no passers-by
Oh, he's a liar
I'd be the same if I were a part of the IRA

Jim left at the roadside, the men had set him free
But poor old Shergar had to stay behind
But soon they heard a ruckus, wondered what the noise could be
So they pulled over to see what they could find

And what did they see? Poor Shergar had hurt his knee
Oh, shame, oh, pity
I'd be the same if I wouldn't see the next day

And so now Shergar pulls the milk float in the sunny afternoon
Said a man in Antrim, but what could he know?
A tale left unfinished, like a lonely, limp string on a loom
They caught the guy, he said he let him go

So I look to the sky, wonder how, wonder why
We live in fire
I'd be the same if I were a racehorse worth the race
Oh, now, I look to the sky, wonder how, I wonder why
We live in fire
I'd be the same