The Hills Of Connemara Lyrics

The Hills Of Connemara Gather up the pots and the old tin can The corn, the mash, the barley and the bran Run like the devil from the excise man Keep the smoke from rising, Barney Oh the excise men are on their way They´re hunting all around for the mountain tay Oh they won´t go away for the devil of a day In the hills of Connemara Oh here´s a bottle for Uncle Tom And here´s a gallon for Father John To help the poor old man along Through the hills of Connemara Well, stand your ground for it´s too late The excise men are at the gate Oh, glory be to Jesus, they´re drinking it straight In the hills of Connemara