In shadowed woods where ancient secrets sleep,
The German Hound moves silent, swift, and sure.
Its nose upon the earth, a path to keep,
A hunter’s heart both patient and mature.
Through whispering leaves and mossy, winding trails,
It weaves a tale of bloodlines sharp and old,
A scent, a cry, the echo never fails—
The forest knows the story it has told.
With steady gait and eyes that pierce the gloom,
It guards the chase until the dawn’s first light,
A noble soul that turns the hunt to bloom,
And claims the wild beneath the fading night.