One fine winter's morning, my horn I did blow
To the green fields of Keady, for a hunt we did go
We gathered our dogs and we circled around
For none loves the sport better than the boys of Maydown

And when we arrived, they were all standing there
We set off through the fields boys, in search of a hare
We didn't go far 'til someone gave a cheer
Over high hill and valley, this wee puss did steer

As she flew o'er thon hills, 'twas a beautiful sight
There were dogs black and yellow, there were dogs black and white
As she skipped the Black Bank and went driving once more
Oh, that was her last look on the hills of Granemore

In a field of wheat stubble, this wee puss did lie
And Rory and Charmer, they did pass her by
But, there where we stood at the top of the brae
We heard the very last words that this wee puss did say

No more o'er the green fields of Keady I'll run
Or trip through the fields boys, to have a day's fun
Or hear the long horn that Joe Toner did play
Or go home to my den by the clear break of day

You may blame Owen McMahon for bringing Coyle here
He's been at his ould capers this many a year
Saturday or Sunday, he'll never give o'er
Only bringing strange dogs 'round the hills of Granemore