Tag: Hare Songs

The Granemore Hare

 

 

Last Saturday morning the horns they did blow

To the green fields round Tassagh the huntsmen did go

To meet the bold sportsmen from around Keady town

For none loved the sport better than the boys of Maydown

 

And when we arrived they were all standing there

So we took to the green fields to search for the hare

We had not gone far when someone gave a cheer

Over high hills and valleys the wee puss did steer

 

With our dogs all abreast and that big mountain hare

And the sweet singing music it rang through the air

Straight for the black bank for to try them once more

And it was her last sight round the hills of Granemore

 

And as we trailed on to where the wee puss did lie

She sprang to her feet for to bid us goodbye

Our music it ceased and her cry we could hear

Saying “Cursed be the ones brought you Maydown dogs here”

 

“Last night as I lay content in the glen

It was little I thought about dogs or of men

But when going homewards at the clear light of day

I could hear the long horn that young Toner did play”

 

“And it being so early I stopped for a while

It was little I thought they were going to meet Coyle

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

Or tried to get clear of those dogs from Maydown”

 

“And now I am dying the sport is all done

No more through the green fields round Keady I’ll run

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

Or go home to my den when it’s breaking daylight”

 

“I blame old McMahon for bringing Coyle here

He’s been at his old capers these many’s the year

From Friday to Sunday he’ll never give o’er

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

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The Hare’s Lament

Another beautiful hare hunting song. This one appeared in Sam Henry’s Songs of the People, and comes from Ulster.

 

On the 20th of January and in the 70th year,

The morning being beautiful, charming, bright and clear,

I being disturbed by dreams as I lay in my den,

I dreamed of heathery mountain, high rock and low glen.

 

Chorus (repeated after each verse):

To my hark, tallyho! Hark over yon brow.

“She’s over,” cries the huntsman, “See, yonder she’ll go.”

 

As I sat in my form for to view the plains round

I being trembling and shaking for fear of the hounds

And seeing no danger appearing to me

I quickly walked out to the top of the slee.

 

Chorus

 

They hunted me up and they hunted me down;

At the loop of the burn they did me surround.

When up come the huntsman to end all the strife,

He says, “Leave the hare down and give her play for her life.”

 

Chorus

 

Bad luck to all sportsmen, to Bowman and Ringwood,

They sprinkled the plain with my innocent blood.

They let Reynard go free, that cunning old fox,

That ate up all the chickens, fat hens and game cocks.

 

Chorus

 

It’s now I’m for dying, but I know not the crime;

To the value of sixpence I ne’er robbed mankind.

I never was given to rob or to steal,

All the harm that ever I done was crop the heads of green kale.

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On Yonder Hill There Sits a Hare

This is another gorgeous hunting song from Tyrone. It was popularised by the great Geordie Hanna.

 

 

On yonder hill there sits a hare

Full of worry, grief and care

And o’er her lodgings it was bare

singing oh, brave boys, hi-ho

And o’er lodgings it was bare,

singing oh, brave boys, hi-ho

 

Now there came a huntsman riding by

And on this poor hare he cast his eye

And o’re the bogs hallooed his dogs

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And o’er the bogs hallooed his dogs

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

 

Now she’s gone from hill to hill

All for the best dog to try his skill

and kill the poor hare that never done ill

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And kill the poor hare that never done ill

singing ho, brave-boys, hi-ho

 

And now she’s turned and turned again

Merrily as she trips the plane

And may she live to run again

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

And may she live to run again,

singing ho, brave boys, hi-ho

 

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The Chasing of the Hare

This is an odd song, which I came across in the Inishowen Singing Project at ITMA. It comes from the singing of Paddy Collins, and I have yet to find any other recordings. More information coming soon!

 

 

It was a pleasant morning in the springtime of the year

The weather it was lovely and the morning calm and clear

There was no one on the premises to keep me in the box

So with my hunting hound and horn I started for the Knox.

 

You may talk enjoy about enjoyment but if sport you want to see

Just get your hound and walking stick and come along with me

There is coursing, racing, motoring, and towering through the air

But no form of amusement like the chasing of the hare.

 

I remember it was the day the Cunion boys came there

We had plenty up for Garners cross the Bridge and Killimare

From the Waterside and Fulham and a number from Roslea

And a few of my acquaintances from round Lisnashea

 

When pussy got up on her props she bid them all goodbye

While the jolly hounds they fairly raised the country with a cry

Oh my heart went up a story while this music filled the air

Was for me a taste of heaven with my bold companions there

 

We had Dasher, Comer, Trimmer, Timer on the go

With Lightening, Ruben, Charmer, and a dozen more or so

We hunted o’er the mountain side, they valleys and the bogs

While they all kept up the cheering for the Ballindarra dogs

 

And when the hunt was finished up my courage to renew

I had a little goblet of the real old mountain dew

Oh it made me feel as happy as if sailing with the gale

I was singing ‘God save Ireland and good rest to Barney Whale”

 

I was strolling down the roadway when a boithrin I did pass

There first I sar my eyes upon my Stanafaley lass

Arrah boys she was a beauty if you saw her you would say,

It was not one bit wonder that she stole my heart away

 

She was the grandest you could meet from Cunion to Belcoo

Her left eye was a golden brown, the right a navy blue

Her complexion was the colour you might purchase in the shop

She had a long and a longer and a most peculiar hop

 

True love it ne’er runs smoothly or as smoothly as you would like

A fact I soon discovered when this fair made went on strike

She left me for another, ’twas a grievous sight to see

And to think this other fella was not half as nice as me

 

 

 

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