Irish in sentiment and almost certainly so in origin, this song conjures visions of the folk tale's Mr. Fox, dismembering the young girls he has seduced away to his forest mansion, a sylvan Bluebeard whose bestial cruelty is matched only by his cunning charm.

One evening as I rambled, two miles below Fermoy,
I met a pretty fair maiden all on the mountains high,
I said, "My pretty fair maiden, your beauty shines most clear,
And on this lonesome mountain I'm glad to meet you here."

She said, "Young man, be civil,my company forsake,
For to my good opinion I fear you are a rake,
And if my parents came to know, my life they would destroy,
For keeping of you company all on the mountains high."

"Oh, no, my dear, I am no rake brought up in Venus' train,
But I'm searching for concealment all from the judge's men;
Your beauty has ensnared me, I cannot pass you by,
And with my gun I'll guard you all on the mountains high."

Her cherry cheeks and ruby lips, they lost their former dye,
And she fell into his arms there, all on the mountains high;
He had not kissed her once or twice when, she came to again,
And modestly she asked him,"Oh, sir, what is your name?"

"Well, if by chance you look for me, by chance you'll not me find,
'Tie writ in ancient history, my name is Reynardine."
Sun and dark she followed him, his teeth so bright did shine,
And he led her over the mountains, that sly bold Reynardine.

So come all you pretty fair maidens,this warning take by me:
Never go a-roving and shun bad company,
For if you do you'll surely rue, until the day you die,
And beware of meeting Reynardine all on the mountains high

© Golden Hind Music