Oh 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 of the down

And when we arrived they were all standing there
We set out 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 t’was a beautiful sight
There were 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 flight o’er the hills of Granemore

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 the sweet puss did say

No more o’er the green fields of Keady I’ll roam
Or trip through the fields boys for sport and for fun
Or hear the long horn that Joe Toner does play
Or go home to me den by the clear light of day

You may blame aul Mac Mahon for killing yon hare
For he’s at the same caper this many’s the year
A Saturday or Sunday he’ll never give o’er
With a pack of strange dogs o’er the hills of Granemore