Low lies noble Arkle, his last race long run: He of all equine champions ruled supreme. Sad to think that valiant heart is stilled, No more his presence rules the racing scene. He knew he was Ireland’s great pride and joy, And rose to each occasion for our acclaim; He loved the fray – knew too he carried our trust – No other chaser will e’er eclipse his fame! Each time he won, with ease he beat the field, And a heavy-handed handicapper’s weight; Once carried twelve-eleven to an eight-length’s win And later drank a pint to celebrate! So – golden bridled Pegasus had wings! And Grecian hero Bellorophone did ride him. No need had Arkle of such godly aids, Just peerless Pat Taaffe and their joint wills to win.