Hills Of Connemara.kar

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.

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 John,
And a bottle for poor old Father Tom,

Just to help the poor old dear along,
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.

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.

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.

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.
In the hills of Connemara.