The Hills of Connemara

Chorus

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.

Chorus

A gallon for the butcher and a quart for John

And a bottle for poor old Father Tom

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 Paddy, but they're drinkin' it straight

In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus (Twice)