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Jez Lowe
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The Ballad of Dorando and Johnny
Johnny Hayes nursing a beer in a bar in New Jersey
His legs may be done but his memory still races along.
When his faithful spectators head off to their homes by the Hudson,
Johnny Hayes sits there alone with his beer and a song.
He sings, they all recall Dorando, his tale is the one always told,
Yes they all recall Dorando,
But at the end of the day, it was me Johnny Hayes,
Who ran away with the gold.
From Windsor to White City, pounding that pavement to London,
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The crowd in stunned wonder, baked by a sun's spiteful shine,
No queens or princesses, kings, no Irvine Berlins sing my praises,
But it was my own two feet, not helping hands carried me 'cross that line.
They talk of that tiny Italian, the little guy's hero,
Who was carried to victory, while I came in straight, fair and square,
What chance did I have in the races we ran that came after,
With me just a Paddy in pumps and him a Vaudeville star.
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