The Rocking Horse Winner is the story of a seemingly-charming upper-middle class family in 1945, and the slow decline of their son, as he finds 'luck' through rocking on a gothic and mystical rocking horse he receives for Christmas. His mother, Hester, struggles to reconcile her desire for status with her complex feelings for her young son. Zev Buffman said about our show, "This is one of those journeys, driven by two talented partners in music, that deserves attention and recognition. The work is mysterious and original. Give it a shot – it is well worth it."
Videos
"The Racing Horse Winner"
YOU’RE SICK AND YOU’RE SAD IN YOUR BED ON YOUR BACK,
BUT LIFE IS A RACE, AND THE WORLD IS THE TRACK.
THE TRACK IS THE THRILLING-EST PLACE THAT I KNOW,
AND SOON AS YOU’RE BACK ON THE MEND, THEN WE’LL GO. 

     (tenderly)
     YOU BET ON THE HORSE AND THE STRONG LITTLE ELF, 
     BUT YOU REALLY ARE PLACING A BET ON YOURSELF. 
     YOU PICK YOUR TWO FAV’RITES, THAT'S CALLED THE QUINELLA. 
     YOU THROW DOWN TWO DOLLARS, YOU BRAVE LITTLE FELLA. 
     YOU WAIT FOR THE PISTOL, AND YOU DRINK YOUR ICE TEA, 
     AND DAYDREAM A BIT ABOUT HOW THINGS COULD BE. 
     THE TRIGGER IS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO PULL IT. 
     ​THE GATES OPEN UP WITH A BELL AND A BULLET. 

     THE HORSES TAKE OFF LIKE A PASSIONATE PRAYER,
     LIKE A WISP FROM A CANDLE THAT GLIDES THROUGH THE AIR.
     LIKE GIDDY YOUNG CATH’LICS AWAITING COMMUNION.
     LIKE MOUNTED BATTALIONS PRESERVING THE UNION. 
     YOU NOTICE YOUR FAV’RITE BEHIND IN THE YARD.
     HE IS MOVING SO SLOWLY, BUT TRYING SO HARD.
     HIS BREATHING IS WHEEZY, HIS SADDLE IS CLUNKY.
     HE’S MEEK AND HE’S SMALL, BUT HE’S KEEN AND HE’S SPUNKY.

     HE’S MAKING THE MOST OF THE HAND THAT HE’S DEALT,
     AND YOU THINK OF THE TIMES WHEN THAT’S JUST HOW YOU FELT.
     THE LEADER SLOWS DOWN, ‘CAUSE IT JUST STARTED RAINING.
     THEN YOUR HORSE ADVANCES; HE’S SPEEDING, HE’S GAINING.
     WITH FIRE IN HIS EYES, HE MOVES UP IN THE HERD.
     NOW HE’S SEVENTH, THEN SIXTH, AND THEN FIFTH, FOURTH, THEN THIRD.
     AS IF THERE'S A TRUMPET THAT SILENTLY BECKONED,
     HE GALLOPS, THOUGH SLOWER THAN YOU MIGHT HAVE RECKONED.

          THEN YOUR HORSE,
          WITH A FORCE,
          HUGS THE INSIDE COURSE.
          AND YOU STIFLE A GASP AND A GRIN.
          YOU’RE A LOCK,
          BUT TO BLOCK,
          THEN OTHER JOCK 
          GIVES YOUR FILLY A KICK ON THE SHIN,
          THEN MOVES IN,
          BY A CHIN,
          FOR THE WIN.

               IT'S A SHAME THAT YOUR HORSE DIDN'T WIN IT. 
               BUT DON'T LET THAT RUIN YOUR DAY.
               YOU FELT LIKE A CHAMP FOR A MINUTE,
               AND THERE’S NO ONE CAN TAKE THAT AWAY. 

Or, to put it another way... 

     (patter!)
     YOU BET ON THE HORSE AND THE STRONG LITTLE ELF, 
     BUT YOU REALLY ARE PLACING A BET ON YOURSELF. 
     YOU PICK YOUR TWO FAV’RITES, THAT'S CALLED THE QUINELLA. 
     YOU THROW DOWN TWO DOLLARS, YOU BRAVE LITTLE FELLA. 
     YOU WAIT FOR THE PISTOL, AND YOU DRINK YOUR ICE TEA, 
     AND DAYDREAM A BIT ABOUT HOW THINGS COULD BE. 
     THE TRIGGER IS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO PULL IT. 
     THE GATES OPEN UP WITH A BELL AND A BULLET. 

     THE HORSES TAKE OFF LIKE A PASSIONATE PRAYER, 
     LIKE A WISP FROM A CANDLE THAT GLIDES THROUGH THE AIR. 
     LIKE GIDDY YOUNG CATH’LICS AWAITING COMMUNION. 
     LIKE MOUNTED BATTALIONS PRESERVING THE UNION. 
     YOU NOTICE YOUR FAV’RITE BEHIND IN THE YARD. 
     HE IS MOVING SO SLOWLY, BUT TRYING SO HARD. 
     HIS BREATHING IS WHEEZY, HIS SADDLE IS CLUNKY. 
     HE’S MEEK AND HE’S SMALL, BUT HE’S KEEN AND HE’S SPUNKY.

     HE’S MAKING THE MOST OF THE HAND THAT HE’S DEALT, 
     AND YOU THINK OF THE TIMES WHEN THAT’S JUST HOW YOU FELT. 
     THE LEADER SLOWS DOWN, ‘CAUSE IT JUST STARTED RAINING. 
     THEN YOUR HORSE ADVANCES; HE’S SPEEDING, HE’S GAINING.
     WITH FIRE IN HIS EYES, HE MOVES UP IN THE HERD. 
     NOW HE’S SEVENTH, THEN SIXTH, AND THEN FIFTH, FOURTH, THEN THIRD. 
     AS IF THERE'S A TRUMPET THAT SILENTLY BECKONED, 
     HE GALLOPS, THOUGH SLOWER THAN YOU MIGHT HAVE RECKONED.

          THEN YOUR HORSE, 
          WITH A FORCE, 
          HUGS THE INSIDE COURSE.
          AND YOU STIFLE A GASP AND A GRIN. 
          YOU’RE A LOCK, 
          BUT TO BLOCK, 
          THEN OTHER JOCK 
          GIVES YOUR FILLY A KICK ON THE SHIN, 
          THEN MOVES IN, 
          BY A CHIN, 
          FOR THE WIN.

               OH, BUT HOLD ON, THERE’S BEEN AN "INQUIRING".
               THE JUDGE NOW ANNOUNCES HIS CALL.
               YOU CAN’T QUITE BELIEVE WHAT’S TRANSPIRING:
               IT TURNS OUT THAT YOU WON AFTER ALL. 
               SEE, IT’S NOT ABOUT WINNING OR MONEY.
               IT’S LIVING THE LIFE THAT YOU CHOOSE.
               SO THAT’S WHAT I’M TELLING YOU, SONNY: 
               ​IF YOU BET ON YOURSELF, YOU WON’T LOSE.
"​A Day at the Fair"
     HESTER
YOU IN THE DISTANCE,
CARE FOR A BEER?
YOU IN THE DERBY, 
​YOU’D BETTER COME HERE.
​
     JACK
BET I’LL REGRET IT.
I’LL SAY HELLO.
JUST FOR A MOMENT.
SO WHERE SHALL WE GO?
     HESTER
​WONDER WHERE THE PRETTY PONIES WILL SWING US,
THEY’LL BRING US,
THEY’LL FLING US 
AROUND AND 'ROUND.

​THE WARM SUN IN THE SALTY AIR.
THE FEEL OF YOUR HAZEL HAIR. 
THE STALLION AND THE STALLION’S MARE.
A DAY AT THE FAIR.

YOU IN MY KITCHEN?

HEAR THE CALLIOPE
​STARTING BACK UP.
WONDER WHAT THE PRETTY PONIES WILL 
SCREAM TO BE,
BURN TO BE,
FOUND GOING ROUND AND 'ROUND. 

BE WARNED, DEAR, BETTER BE WARY.
SUMMER SUN CAN BLIND.
THE STALLION AND THE STALLION’S MARE.
​THE RIDE’S WORTH THE FARE.
     HESTER
OUT ON THE BOARDWALK,

FOLLOW THE SOUND.
CARE FOR A RIDE ON
​THE MERRY-GO-ROUND?

THE SUN, THE SALT, THE AIR.
THE FEEL— I FEEL YOUR HAZEL HAIR.
MY STALLION’S MARE, PLEASE MARRY ME.
​STAY FINE AND FAIR.


CARE FOR A CUP? ​
HEAR THE CALLIOPE START
AS THE PLEASURES ABANDONED
DREAM TO BE, 
YEARN TO BE
FOUND ON THE MERRY-GO
​MERRY-GO-ROUND.

I’M WARNING YOU, BEST BEWARE.
THE SUN BEATS A BLINDING GLARE. 
MY STALLION’S NIGHTMARE.
LOVE’S NEVER FAIR.
     HESTER
BACK THEN, YOUR SMILE COULD TAKE MY STRENGTH AWAY.

​     JACK
WHAT IF I’VE FORGOTTEN...
     HESTER
​HOW
​WE SLEEP, ASIDE, A LENGTH AWAY.
​
PLASTER PONIES NEVER DIED,
TOGETHER WE RIDE, TOGETHER WE RIDE.

I’LL SUN IN THE SUN IN THE SALTY AIR WITH YOU.
THE FEEL OF YOUR HAZEL HAIR.
THE STALLION AND THE STALLION’S MARE.
A DAY AT THE--
​WE’LL STAY AT THE--
​A DAY AT THE FAIR. ​​​
     JACK
HOW?
​
START AGAIN STARTING NOW.
THE PLASTER PONIES NEVER DIED,
​TOGETHER WE RIDE, TOGETHER WE RIDE.

THE SUN, AND THE SALT, AND THE AREA
THAT’S ABOVE YOUR DERRIERE.
MY STALLION’S MARE, 
PLEASE STAY WITH ME.
​STAY FINE AND STAY MINE AND
STAY FINE AND FAIR.
"You Can't Have Too Much Christmas/I Can't Breathe"
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MANY LOVED ONES RING TOO MANY CHRISTMAS CHIMES.
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MANY MEM’RIES FROM OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS TIMES. 
SEE THE STOCKINGS ON THE SHELF, BY THE RED CINDER BRICKS. 
WE HAVE FIVE OF THEM RIGHT NOW, 
BUT THERE’S ROOM FOR SIX.

YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MUCH IMPATIENCE OPENING A CHRISTMAS TOY.
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO BIG A SMILE BASKING IN THE CHRISTMAS JOY. 
HERE’S A CANDY THAT’S A CANE, AND A CAKE MADE OF FRUIT.
MAYBE LATER WE’LL HAVE DAD WEAR HIS SANTA SUIT. 

     WHEN A LITTLE TIME HAS PASSED, AND THE WEATHER’S GETTING HOT.
     WHEN THERE’S NO MORE SNOW,
     AND THE FLOWERS GROW, 
     THEN YOUR FRIENDS ARE ALL YOU’VE GOT.
     WHEN ANOTHER WINTER’S GONE, AND WE’VE HAD OUR FILL OF CHEER,
     I’M AS PLEASED AS PUNCH 
     THAT I’M WITH THIS BUNCH
     TO BEGIN A BRAND-NEW YEAR. 

YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MANY VOICES FILL THE TOWN WITH CHRISTMAS GLEE. 
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR HAVE TOO MUCH TINSEL BRIGHTENING THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 
THEY’VE ALREADY HAD THEIR MEAL, SINCE YOU GOT HERE SO LATE.
BUT IN CASE YOU CARE TO EAT, THEN I FIXED A PLATE. 

     WHEN YOU’RE FIGHTING OVERSEAS, WHEN YOU THINK OF THINGS YOU MISS,
     IN A TIME OF WAR,
     ​ON A FOREIGN SHORE,
     YOU’D IMAGINE NIGHTS LIKE THIS.
     WHEN WE’VE COME IN FROM THE SNOW, AND WE’RE BUNDLED UP IN FLEECE,
     THEN WE’LL SAY A MASS,
     AND WE’LL RAISE A GLASS
     ​TO BEGIN THIS TIME OF PEACE. 

YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR WAKE UP TOO EARLY WELCOMING A CHRISTMAS DAY.
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MUCH ADVENTURE RIDING ON A CHRISTMAS SLEIGH!
SEE THEM FILLING UP ON CHEER WHILE THEIR DEBITS ACCRUE,
UP TO JANUARY EIGHTH, WHEN THEIR BILL COMES DUE.
​
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR YOU'LL GET A MIGRAINE FIGHTING OFF THE CHRISTMAS BLUES.
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
THAT’S WHY UNCLE OSCAR THANKS OUR LORD FOR CHRISTMAS BOOZE!

YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
OR TOO MANY SNOWMEN GUARD THE HOUSE ON CHRISTMAS NIGHT. 

​YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS,
​OR TOO MANY CANDLES TWINKLING THEIR CHRISTMAS LIGHT.
PEACE ON EARTH,
LOVE AND JOY,
TO ALL MEN.
PEACE ON EARTH AND LOVE AND JOY TO ALL. 
PEACE ON EARTH,
LOVE AND JOY.
​CHRISTMAS LIGHT.
HEAR THE TOWER CHIMING TWELVE, BY THE CLANG OF THE BELL.
WITH OUR FAM’LY AND OUR FRIENDS, ALL IS RIGHT AND WELL.


​BEWARE THE MAGGOTS. 
THEY’RE ALL AROUND. 

     OOZE, THEY OOZE, 
     THEY BUBBLE UP, 
     UP FROM THE FLOOR AND UP MY UNDER-SKIRT. 
     ITCH. THEY SCRATCH. 
     THEY CRAWL INSIDE MY BOSOM STEALING COINS.
     FEEL THEM HATCHING, 
     FEEL THEM LATCHING 
     LEECHING, 
     SCRATCHING, 
     SCREECHING 
          ‘TIL I CAN’T BREATHE. 
          ​I CAN’T BREATHE!

     SPEND, THEY SPEND 
     ON TOYS, ON FOOD. 
     YES, THEY’RE MY CHILDREN AT MY THROAT. 
     WHEEZE, I WHEEZE— THEY SMOTHER— 
     SQUEEZE THEIR MOTHER 
     SEIZING OXYGEN FROM ME. 
          I CAN’T BREATHE. 
          I CAN’T BREATHE. 
          ​I CAN’T BREATHE!

BEWARE YOUR FAM’LY.
THEY’RE ALL AROUND.

     GRAB. THEY GRUB.
     THEY STAB, THEY STUB.
     THEY MAKE ME WISH THAT I COULD STEP ON THEM
          JUST TO BREATHE.
     IN MY DREAM, I CHOKE THEM,
     STROKE THEM, STRIKE THEM,
     POKE THEM, PIKE THEM
          ’TIL THEY CAN’T--
          THEY CAN’T... THEY--
          THEY CAN’T BREATHE.
          ’TIL THEY CAN’T--
          THEN I’D BREATHE. 
          I COULD BREATHE.
          HOW I’D BREATHE.
     I WANT TO--
     WANT TO LOVE THEM,
     BUT THEIR CHRISTMAS
     ​CHRISTMAS, NEVER-ENDING,
     GREEDY--
     ROBBING ME OF--
     JUDGING ME FOR--
     ​ROB ME OF MY, OF MY
     COUTH, HEALTH, YOUTH, WEALTH.
     TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS.
     MY VERMIN HUSBAND--
     MORE MONEY--
     BROTHER REPTILE--
     MORE MONEY--
     FIND MY AIR,
     GRAB IT.
     I MUST--
     I MUST--
     LOVE MY CHILDREN,
     WHY CAN’T I?
     CHILDREN! MAGGOTS!
          WHY CAN’T?
          I CAN’T BREATHE.
          ​I CAN’T BREATHE!

​YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS
IF YOU LOOK INSIDE YOU, THEN YOU WON’T SEE CHRISTMAS LEAVE.
YOU CAN’T HAVE TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS
NO, NOT TOO MUCH CHRISTMAS. 
MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE!
"​A Dream for Paul"
LUCKY BOY,
YOU’VE BEEN A FOOL.
LUCKY BOY,
THE WORLD IS SHARP
AND CRUEL.
AND YOU’RE NAIVE.
PAUL,
HOW DARE YOU LEAVE? 

LUCKY BOY,
I’VE BEEN UNKIND.
LUCKY BOY,
HAVE I BEEN DEAF
AND BLIND?
I LOST MY WAY.
STAY,
MY DARLING STAY. 

     RAISE YOUR HEAD.
     BREATHE, MY DEAR.
     AND KNOW THAT I
     AM HERE. 

LUCKY BOY,
WE’VE BEEN APART.
LUCKY BOY,
YOU ARE MY LUCK;
MY HEART.
I FIN’LLY SEE.
NOW,
I SET YOU FREE.

     SLEEP, MY PAUL. 
     ​SOUND AND DEEP.
     JUST PROMISE WHEN
     YOU SLEEP... 

     DREAM OF ME.
     WHEN YOU DO,
     KNOW I WILL DREAM
     OF YOU. 

          DREAM OF HORSES STRIDING TALL.
          CLIMB ATOP AND NEVER FALL.
          RIDE AWAY ABOVE US ALL.
​
          ​I LOVE YOU, PAUL.