Don't mourn for me when I am dead
I was raced for greed, I'm Irish bred.
No one cared if I lived
or died,
I raced and lost, my owner sighed.
"He's got to go I need the space,
I've a faster hound I want
to race"
At the end of the night
there comes a van,
Driven by Mel, the needle man.
One by one we're pushed inside,
jabbed by the needle,
there's
nowhere to hide.
There is no escape
just fear and pain.
I'll never see the track again.
Dead bodies are heaped
at the rear of the van,
Killed by Mel the needle man.
The
dog before me yelps and bites,
but he's kicked in the guts,
he's
lost his fight.
Now it's my turn to go,
I'm sick with fear,
I see dead bodies at the rear.
My legs grow weak,
I hit the ground,
Who gives a damn,
I'm just a Greyhound!
NEXT
