Noel McLoughlin - The Hills Of Connemara lyrics

Gather up the pots and the old tin cans The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran Running like the devil from the excise man Keep the smoke from rising, Barney Keep your eyes well peeled today The excise man is on his way Searching for the mountain tay In the hills of Connemara Swing to the left and swing to the right The excise man will dance all night Drinking up the tay till the broad daylight In the hills of Connemara A gallon for the butcher, a quart for Tom A bottle for poor old father John To help the poor old man along In the hills of Connemara Stand your ground, it's too late The excise men are at the gate Glory be to God, he's drinking it nate In the hills of Connemara