Few can match the evocative lyrics of the Irish entry:
My lovely horse
(My lovely horse)
Running through the field
(Running through the field)
Where are you going, with your fetlocks blowing in the wind?
(All Summer)
I want to shower you with sugar lumps
And ride you over fences
Polish your hooves every single day
And bring you to the horse dentist
My lovely horse
(My lovely horse)
Running through the field
(Running through the field)
Where are you going, with your fetlocks blowing in the wind?
(All Summer)
I want to shower you with sugar lumps
And ride you over fences
Polish your hooves every single day
And bring you to the horse dentist