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.