Gone to the Dogs

(Difford/Tilbrook) Down at the dogs the bets are placed A wad of notes rolled in a hand The floodlit track is center stage For winning hounds to take the stand In old covert coats and trilby hats The owners swan around the place The tic tac man throws out his arms His thin moustache stretched on his face Gone to the dogs the man and his life He stands by the rail and looks at the sky Confused by the thoughts That stew in his mind Alone by the track on a Saturday night Gone to the dogs He stands and reflects Gone to the dogs And has no regrets The restaurant's full and table bets Are taken by the girls who serve The basket meals and German wine Excitement mounts The buzz is heard The stadium is full of screams And cigar smoke is in the air The dogs race around on their last lap And down the straight they chase the hare