His name for his fame was Hagita He leapt from the box like the wind As he set sail with a flash of his tail He's headed for home on the rail
Now comes the test, to see who's the best They're bred from the best sires around Their owners and trainers are holding their breath And the greyhounds are stretched to the ground
With sleek head all down, they're pounding around The last bend and heading for home Bumping and pushing for room on the rail Their long noses all flecked with foam
Here's his black muzzle, he's free from the hustle His heart is pounding his chest He's stretched to the full, and he'll pull and he'll pull For winning is what he knows best
The crowd cheer him on in one hollering throng It's a fever they just cannot quit And he'll come again, for he knows he's found fame And he just loves the fun of the game
Hagita Hagita Hagita, he was the best dog around His race is run but we will never forget The heart of this racing greyhound.
For my father who retired from the sport at eighty one years of age and passed away just a few weeks ago aged ninety three.