Misc Traditional – The Granemore Hare (Guitar)

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Last Saturday morning, our horns they did blow

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To the green fields of Tassen, where the huntsmen did go

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For to meet the bold sportsmen from round Keady Town

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And none love the sport better than the boys from Maydown

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Oh, and when we arrived, they were all standing there

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So we took to the green fields, in search of a hare

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We hadn't gone far when someone gave a cheer

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Over hills and high meadows the puss she did steer.

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When she got to the heather she tried them to shun

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But the dogs never missed, one inch where she'd run

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They kept well packed when going over the hill

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For the hounds had set out the sweet hare for to kill

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With our dogs all abreast and the big mountain hare

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And the sweet charming music it rang through the air

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Straight for the Black Bank for to try them once more

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But it was her last sight round the hills of Granemore

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Oh, and as we trailed on to where the hare she did lie

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She sprang to her feet for to bid them goodbye

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Well, their music did cease and the cry we could hear

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Saying cursed be the ones, brought you Maydown dogs here

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Last night as I lay quite content in the glen

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It was little I thought then of dogs or of men

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But when going home at the clear break of day

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I could hear the long dogs round Young Tornerdon Bay

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And it being so early, I stopped for a while,

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It was little I thought they were going to meet Coyle

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If I had known that I'd have lain near the town

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Or tried to get clear of those dogs from May Down

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And now that I'm dying and the sport is all done

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No more through the green fields of Keady I'll run

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Nor feed in the glen on a cold winter's night

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Or go home to my den when it's breaking day light

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A curse on McMahon for bringing Coyle here

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He's been at the same caper for many's a year

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From Friday to Sunday, he'd never give o'er

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With a pack of strange dogs 'round the hills of Granemore