Hills Of Greenmor

One fine winter's morning me horn I did blow

To the green hills of Kielder for hours did go

We gathered our dogs and we circled around

For who loves the sport more than the boys of the town.

And when we arrived they were all standing there

We set off for the fields in search of a hare

We didn't get far till someone gave a 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 yeller, there was dogs black and white

She took the black bank to try them once more

Oh it was her last lank for the hills of Greenmore.

In a field of wheat stubble this sweet puss did lie

And Rory and Charmer they did pass her by

And there where we stood at the foot of the brae

Oh, we heard the last words that this sweet puss did say:

"Oh' no more o'er the green hills of Kielder I'll roam

No skip through the fields in sport and in fun

Nor hear the loud horn your toner does play

I'll go back to me den by the clear light of day."

You may blame MacMahon for killing the hare

He's been at his ol' capers this many's a year

Well, Saturdays and Sundays he'll never give o'er

With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore.