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 gathered our dogs and we circled around For none loves the sport better than the boys in the dell. And when we arrived they were all standing there We set off for the fields, boys, in search of a hare We didn't get far till someone gave the cheer Over high hills and valleys the 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 white As she took the black bank for to try them once more Oh it was her last look o'er the hills of Greenmore. In a field of wheat stubble this p**sy did lie And Rory and Charmer they did pass her by And there where we stood at the top of the brae We heard the last words that this sweet puss did say: âNo more o'er the green fields of Keady I'll roam Nor trip through the fields, boys, in sport and in fun Or hear the long horn that your toner does play Or go home to my den by the clear light of day.â You may blame ol' MacMahon for killing the hare For he's at his ol' capers this many's a year On Saturday and Sunday he never gives o'er With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore