How quickly do the months fly by,
Like winging bats 'gainst an evening sky.
This fat little pup, last year we found,
Stands tall and proud, magnificent hound.
Thirty-five inches to the shoulder,
No hound more graceful, faithful, bolder.
To see him racing, covering ground,
The gods smile gently on this fleeting hound.
His eyes reflecting living history,
So clear and shining, yet still a mystery.
How pounds my heart, my spirit sings,
Honoured friend of the old Irish kings.
We 'Knights of the Crusades' pick up your leash,
Our flashing swords again unsheathe.
On pageant field tread now your paws
And glory in the crowd's applause.
Then after the show, O! Hound of Renown,
Comes a nice ice cream to cool you down!