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 tall, tall men are on their way

Searching for the mountain tay

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.

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.

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.

Stand your ground, for it's too late

The excise men are at the gate.

Glory be to Paddy, but they're drinking it nate,

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.