"The Prize"
By Larry Samp
Sent away from her home for the twentieth time
She thinks without a stir
They are white and hard and filled with life
They mean everything to her
It's dark in the crate, there's no way out
She's among strangers now
She thinks with her heart to get to her eggs
With her mind she figures how
She'll fly so hard when she gets loose
She knows just where she'll go
It's by the lake and over the hill
And the mountains lined with snow
Then through the farms and by that post
Where the hawk always hangs out
There will be no quit in this little mom
Her babies are trying to get out
The sun is new and the air is fresh
But she's six hundred miles away
When she gets home, if her eggs are hurt
There's gonna be hell to pay After fourteen hours, a drink from the lake
And a chase from the hawk on the post
She flies through the trap and into her nest
To the prize she wants the most

"HEART"
By Larry Samp
He's in a crate with strangers around
But he knows what it's all about
When the seals are cut and the doors released
He'll take the familiar route.
His family's been good, his Dad's in stock
His Mom has bred well too
But his future is cloudy, a lot rides on this race
He's got a job to do.
He is older now, but he's on the edge
With results both good and bad
A poor race today might end it all
But with a good race, he'll join his dad
Pigeon racing is a strange type of sport
But there is one thing I know
It's the only event that you pay a lot
And don't get to see the whole show
The finish line is not all that counts
But it's all that most can see
It plays a large part in who goes or stays
To make up the family tree
Now back to the cock I was speaking about
He's now way in front of the pack
He's heading home and in the lead
But the sky is turning black
While the rest drop back and take different routes
The cock decides to push on
The wind and rain are in his face
But the race is his to be won
He's giving his all, he's fighting strong winds
His muscles are getting sore
But when the others would quit or just slow down
He gives just a litle bit more
He's getting wetter as he flies a straight line
The others have gone around
He tries his best to stay in the air
But he's getting close to the ground
All at once from out of the dark
It hits him in the face
A wire, it hurts, he's got to go down
But maybe there's second place
He's hungry and hurt, it's getting darker
He's scared and soaking wet
The others are home, their race is done
But his isn't over yet
A cat comes close, he's back in the air
Even an owl gives chase
But the cock thinks of home, his nest and his hen
Maybe there's still third place
He's hurt and tired and flying slow
But thinking of his hen
He picks up his speed and heads for home
Maybe he'll be top ten
He lands on the board and runs through the trap
He's hurt, he's tired, he's thin
And startled as he looks around
His race mates looking back at him
He thought he won.....well maybe not
But at least he gave his best
The spirit in the heart of this little cock
Was more than all the rest
The others were fresh and came home first
But who really won the race?
This tired cock is worth a lot more
Than the trophy for first place
It's the guts of the race and the guts of the bird
That most of us can't see
Good muscle, and feather and wing are nice
But the heart matters most to me
The hardest part of racing birds
Is choosing who's good or bad
But when you have a bird with this much heart
He should go along side of his Dad