My name is Tommy Luther, I'll soon be 84 I'll show you a little picture I keep tucked in this old drawer 60 years ago, boys, I rode for the Diamond team Sailing by, eight feet high on horses quick as dreams Well I joined up with the races when they came through Alabam They had a good young rider, just a boy, named Sandy Graham We were two kids run away from home when the world was breaking down Didn't stay to see the family sell the farm and move to town From Detroit to Tijuana to Annapolis we rode They called us rookies "bug boys", we were just 16 years old We were worth a couple of saddles and two big bags of grain The big men owned the horses and they owned us just the same 60 years ago, boys, I rode for the Diamond team Sailing by, eight feet high on horses quick as dreams Well it's Winnipeg and it's raining but the track's not looking bad They gave me Irish Princess, Sandy rode on Vesper Lad We were flying down the backstretch my horse was running proud I pulled ahead of Sandy when a roar came from the crowd I crouched as Irish Princess thundered across the line And then I stood and turned around to see that friend of mine Vesper Lad was standing still there must have been a fall And in the mud lay Sandy looking lifeless as a doll Well a crowd ran up to Sandy, they scooped him off the track They took him to the office with shattered ribs and back At the hospital next morning I sat by Sandy's side But the season would be ending soon and then I'd have to ride Mandolin Just a coupla days past Danville, word came down the line Sandy'd lost his struggle, we hung our heads and cried It was poor old Mother Harris from the boarding house in town Who paid for the little casket and layed him in the ground I sent a couple of dollars, it was all that I could save She drew me a little picture of the lonely rider's grave I've kept it in my bedroom drawer all these 60 years I still see that crumpled body now but I'm too old for tears My name is Tommy Luther, I'll soon be 84 I'll show you a little picture I keep tucked in this old drawer Chorus Sailing by, eight feet high on horses quick as dreams