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The Hills Of Connemara
por
Noel Mcloughlin
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Gather up the pots and the old tin cans The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran. Run like the devil from the excise man Keep the smoke from rising, Barney. Keep your eyes well peeled today The excise men are on their way Searching for the mountain tay In the hills of Connemara. Swinging to the left, swinging to the right The excise men will dance all night Drinkin' up the tay till the broad daylight In the hills of Connemara A gallon for the butcher and a quart for Tom And a bottle for poor old Father John Just to help the poor old dear along In the hills of Connemara. Stand your ground, for it's too late The excise men are at the gate. Glory be to God, but they're drinkin' it straight In the hills of Connemara Gather up the pots and the old tin cans The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran. Run like the devil from the excise man Keep the smoke from rising, Barney.
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