Do ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay? Do ye ken John Peel at the break of day? Do ye ken John Peel when he's far, far away With his hounds and his horn in the morning
Twas the sound of his horn brought me from my bed And the cry of his hounds has me oftimes led For Peel's view holloa would wake the dead Or a fox from his lair in the morning
Do ye ken that hound whose voice is death? Do ye ken her sons of peerless faith Do ye ken that a fox with his last breath Cursed them all as he died in the morning?
Yes, I ken John Peel and auld Ruby, too Ranter and Royal and Bellman so true From the drag to the chase, from the chase to the view From the view to the death in the morning
And I've followed John Peel both often and far O'er the rasper fence and the gate and the bar From Low Denton Holme to the Scratchmere Scar When we vied for the brush in the morning
Then here's to John Peel with my heart and soul Come fill, fill to him a brimming bowl For we'll follow John Peel thro fair or thro foul While we're waked by his horn in the morning