(Lyrics: Maureen S. O'Brien / Music: "Bonny Portmore")
Oh, where are the wolfhounds, and how do they stand?
Oh, famine's destroyed half the dogs in the land.
When the lords flew away, their hounds went with them too
And the wolfhounds of Ireland, their ranks have grown few.
"Then gather the scattered," said wise Colonel Graham.
"It will take many years, so it's time we began.
Before Greece and Rome, there were tales of their deeds,
And I will not let die such an old noble breed."
So he took that poor remnant and he did begin
To outcross their lines with dogs close to their kin:
The Great Dane, the deerhound, the greyhound and all --
For fear the hounds' gene pool had now grown too small.
He bred them as Fionn had: for hounds strong and tall,
The chest broad to gallop, the ears folded small,
A heart full of courage, a temper that's sweet,
Commanding appearance, and long-running feet.
So where are the wolfhounds, and how do they stand?
Like the Irish, they thrive now in all the world's lands.
They protect against wolves or a human gone wild,
Or lie patiently, hunting a hug from a child.
So I thank Colonel Graham for his foresight and dream,
And wolfhounds beside us that doze, play and scheme.
And as long as there's humans, beside them will be
The great Irish wolfhounds, with joy running free.
(Contributed by Andy & Mogg - March 2003)