 He'll never win. He'll never win. The other nags are closing in. He's gone to third from second place. It looks as though he's thrown the race. They've got him in a pocket. He can't get in the clear. They're in the stretch. Here they come. He's falling to the rear. He'll lose the race, but it's a frame. I'll find the blighter who's to blame and clear the name of little Johnny Jones.