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Hark hark! I hear Lang Will's clear voice sound through the Kielder Glen,
Where the raven flaps her glossy wings and the fell fox has his den
An' the shepherds they are gathering up wi mony a guid yauld grew,
An' wiry terrier game an' keen, an' foxhound fleet and true.

Hark away! Hark away!
Owre the bonnie hills o' Kielder, hark away!

There was Mowdie there frae Emmethaugh, there was Royal frae Bakethinn
There were hounds frae Reed an' Kielder Heid, an' Ruby by the Linn
There were hounds of fame frae Irthingside, tae try baith moss an' crag
Hark hark! That's Mowdie's loud clear note, he has bold Reynard's drag.

Hark away! Hark away!
Owre the bonnie hills o Kielder, hark away!

Away, away owre bank and brae, they drive the wily game,
Where Mowdie, Ruby, Royal still uphaud their glorious fame;
See yon leish yald shepherd lads, how Monkside heights they climb,
They're the pride o aa the Borders wide, for wind and wiry limb.

Hark away! Hark away!
Owre the bonnie hills o Kielder, hark away!

Throw yon wild glen they view him now straight for the Yearning Linn,
By peat an crag, o'er moss and hads, sae glorious was the din;
Weel dune! Hurrah! They've run him doon, yon's Mowdie twirls him now,
For the hunt is done, his brush is won, an' I hear the death halloo.

Hark away! Hark away!
Owre the bonnie hills o Kielder, hark away!

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