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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