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Had a couple of huntin’ dogs called Rowdy and Old Blue,

Not a better pair of deer dogs in the state of Florida, for true.

Every year, the pair went through a ritual little quirk,

In that, they had to fight before they would work.



Eventually someone would wade in and break’em up,

But not before Old Blue showed who was boss to the pup.

The way these two worked, was enough to make you weep,

The teamwork they displayed, just couldn’t be beat.



How Old Blue would keep hot on the trail was really clear,

While Rowdy would swing arcs ahead, tryin’ to jump the deer.

Old Blue would yelp to confirm line and direction

And Rowdy would continue arcin’ with anticipation.



Once the deer jumped and finally ran,

Rowdy would howl and the race began.

Old Blue would take off to join the fun,

It was a beautiful thing to hear them run.



During the season when the kill was finally down,

The donnybrook started again between these old hounds.

I recall those warm days and nights of my youth,

When those two would fight nail and tooth.



They both are gone and many years have past

But their memories linger on alas.

I hope they made it to the happy hunting grounds

Cause there ain’t any more deservin’ hounds.



Rest in peace, loyal old friends

May we meet again at my end.

We will hunt the happy hunting grounds,

Me, my dad, and you old hounds.