Paradise-Little Donny Quinn Poem by Coach Roth

Little Donny Quinn worked as
a bell hop at the Hilton downtown…
Only 4 feet 9 inches tall,
he told people he used to be a jockey,
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m telling a story now…
I was supposed to ride Secretariat,
But I got the flu…they bumped me...
The rest is history…”
But the closest he came to a horse race
was the pari-mutual window
at Santa Anita…
He would be the first in the bar
everyday immediately after work
and the last to leave…in between
he would drink about a case of beer…
Somewhere along about nine…
Either in his stories or someone’s comment…
Full blooded Irish Little Donny Quinn
would remember his mother
who died 10 years earlier…
“She was me mum…God rest her soul”
and he would bawl his eyes out
while everyone tried to change the subject….
“Hey Donny…who’s going to win the Derby…”
“Ah hell…what are you stupid…everyone
knows it’s a lock…don’t interrupt…I’m
telling a story…I seen that nag run down
at Hollywood Park…best mudder you ever seen…
mudder…god’s sake…me poor own mudder…
she died so young…used to beat me badly…
but she was me mum.”
And then he would choke up and cry
until there was a pool of water on the bar…
Coach: “C’mon Donny…you’re messin’ up my bar.”
Little Donny would stand up, all four feet nine inches…
“You want to mess with me…huh, you big moose…
you want to mess with me.”
“Of course not Donny, let me buy you a beer.”
“You do that and don’t interrupt…
I’m telling a story…I was supposed
To be mounted on Secretariat…
But I got the flu….”
The bar got back to normal...
or as much as possible...