Steeleye Span - The Hills of Greenmore lyrics
[Steeleye Span - The Hills of Greenmore lyrics]
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 pussy 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:
"No 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
I'll go home to my den by
The clear light of day"
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
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 pussy 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:
"No 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
I'll go home to my den by
The clear light of day"
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