The Hills Of Greenmore

	作词 : Traditional
	Traditional
	One fine winter's morn my horn I did blow
	To the green fields of Keady for hours we did go
	We covered our dogs and we searched all the way
	For none loves this sport better than the boys in the Dale.
	And when we are rising we're all standing there
	We sit up by the fields, boys, in search of the hare
	We didn't get far till someone gave the cheer
	Over high hills and valleys this 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 bright
	Now she took to the black bank for to try them once more
	Oh it was her last ride o'er the hills of Greenmore
	In the field fleet stubble this pussy die lie
	And in growing chary they did pass her by
	And there well 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
	In touch of the fields, boys, in sporting and 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 our right man for killing the hare
	For he said his o.k. first this many a year
	On saturday and sunday he never gives o'er
	With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore.

	zuò cí : Traditional
	Traditional
	One fine winter' s morn my horn I did blow
	To the green fields of Keady for hours we did go
	We covered our dogs and we searched all the way
	For none loves this sport better than the boys in the Dale.
	And when we are rising we' re all standing there
	We sit up by the fields, boys, in search of the hare
	We didn' t get far till someone gave the cheer
	Over high hills and valleys this 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 bright
	Now she took to the black bank for to try them once more
	Oh it was her last ride o' er the hills of Greenmore
	In the field fleet stubble this pussy die lie
	And in growing chary they did pass her by
	And there well 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
	In touch of the fields, boys, in sporting and 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 our right man for killing the hare
	For he said his o. k. first this many a year
	On saturday and sunday he never gives o' er
	With a pack of strange dogs round the hills of Greenmore.