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#1 |
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When I was about 12 years old, I wrote this. Can't believe I still remember it. In the midwestern part of our land so fair The Hoosier state, so serene up there But for one month of each year Not the song of a bird, nor the winds whistling voice can you hear For nature is hushed by the near holy roar Of one great spectical's history and lore The old Brickyard, it's been named Within its walls, man and machine have each been tamed Yet every year men return, led by some blind act of passion Seeking immortality, and racing's supreme satisfaction And race day's splendor sets an entire world on its ear The banks of the Wabash silence, so they can hear And at last the day has come, and the field is large Mighty are the machines, and select their men in charge And before the passing of another day is done Racing's most coveted prize will again be won |
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#2 |
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I've been going to the race every year since I was Nine. That gave me goosebumps!! |