the hills of greenmore

THE HILLS OF GREENMORE

One fine winter's morning my horn I did blow
To the green fields of Keady for hours we did go
We covered our dogs and we searched all the way
For none loves this sport better than the boys in the Dale.

And when we are rising we're all standing there
We sit up by the fields, boys, in search of the hare
We didn't get far till someone gave the cheer
Over high hills and valleys this wee puss did steer

As we flew o'er the hills, 'twas a beautiful sight
There was dogs black and yellow, and dogs black and white
Now she took to the bank for to try them once more
Oh it was her last ride o'er the hills of Greenmore

In the field of wheat stubble this wee puss did lie
And [Terry and] Charrlie did pass her by
And there where we stood at the top of the brae
We heard the last words that the wee puss did say:

"No more o'er the green fields of Keady I'll run
Or skip through the meadows, to have sport and fun
Or hear the long horn that old Donagh does play
Or go home to my den by the clear light of day"

You may blame old Macmullen for killing the hare
For he's been at his old capers this many a year
On saturday and sunday he never gives o'er
With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore.

 

 


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