Doo-dah, doo-dah

I bet my money on the bob-tailed nag
Somebody bet on the bay

I come down with my hat caved in
Doo-dah, doo-dah
I go back home with a pocket full of tin
Oh, de doo-dah day.

The Betting Shop has come a long way. I used to remember them as seedy little shops with painted out windows. The doors were always meant to be kept closed, but were inevitably open with the passage of its patrons and stale cigarette smoke.