The Hills Of Greanmore


On a fine summer's morning our horns, they did blow
To the green fields 'round Tassu where the huntsmen did go
For to meet the bold sportsman from around Cady town
And none loved that sport better than the boys from May-down

Oh and when we arrived, they were all standing there
So we took to the green fields in search of the hare
We did not go far when someone gave cheer
Over hills and high meadows the prey did appear

When she got to the heather, she tried them to shun
But our dogs never missed one inch where she'd run
They kept well-packed when going over the hill
For the hounds had set out this sweet hare for to kill

With our dogs all abreast and the big mountain hare
And the sweet charming music, it rang through the air
Straight for the black bank for to try them once more
But it was her last sight 'round the Hills of Greenmore

Oh and as we trailed on to where the hare, she did lie
She sprang to her feet for to bid them good-bye
Their music, it ceased, and a cry we could hear
Saying, "Bad luck to the ones brought ye May-down dogs here

Last night as I lay quite content in the glen
It was little I thought of the dogs or the men
But when going home at the clear break of day
I could hear the loud horn young Toner did play

Now that I'm dying and me sport, it is done
No more through the green fields of Cady I'll run
Nor feed in the glen on a cold winter's night
Or go home to my den when it's breaking daylight

I blame old McMahon for bringing Coyle here
He's been at the same caper for many's the year
Every Saturday and Sunday, he'd never give o'er
With a pack of strange dogs 'round the Hills of Greenmore"
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