The Hills Of Greenmore - Steeleye Span

One fine winter’s morn 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 sweet puss did steer

As we flew o’er the hills, 'twas a beautiful sight

There was dogs black and yellow, there was dogs black and bright

Now she took to the black bank for to try them once more

Oh it was her last ride o’er the hills of Greenmore

In the field fleet stubble this pussy die lie

And in growing chary they did pass her by

And there well we stood at the top of the brae

We heard the last words that this sweet puss did say:

«No more o’er the green fields of Keady I’ll roam

In touch of the fields, boys, in sporting and fun

Or hear the long horn that your toner does play

I’ll go home to my den by the clear light of day"

You may blame our right man for killing the hare

For he said his o.k.

first this many a year

On saturday and sunday he never gives o’er

With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore